The Transfiguration Assignment
by Princess Persephone
Summary: James and Lily are paired together for a Transfiguration assignment that counts for fifty percent of their grade. As they work closely with one another, will Lily realize something? mild lovehate
1. Chapter 1

The Transfiguration Assignment

A/N: This story is also posted at Checkmated dot com.

Summary: James and Lily are paired together for a Transfiguration assignment that counts for fifty percent of their grade. As they work closely with one another, will Lily realize something?

Disclaimer: This is purely a work of fanfiction. So, sadly, I don't own anything, except Cecily Elwell, Meryl von Lisbeth, and George Rastner, and a few other characters, but I highly doubt you want to steal any of them.

Chapter One

"Class! Class, settle down!"

The voice of Professor McGonagall shot through the noisy classroom, stomping down on conversations and laughter until the entire room was silent. Except, of course, for a particular bunch of noisy boys in the back corner. Three dark heads were put together, bent over a piece of parchment, and a shout of laughter and a loud snicker carried across the room.

"Potter, Black, Lupin!" Professor McGonagall barked at the back row. "I am certain that whatever it is that has captured your attention is far more interesting than my lesson plans. Far be it from me to ruin your fun, so the rest of the class and I will just wait until you've finished your little plot before carrying on." Her mouth was thin with impatience, but if you looked closely, you'd be able to spot a glimmer of amused fondness in her eyes.

"Aw, you know nothing is as interesting as you, Minnie," Sirius said with a grin, as James and Remus quickly hid the parchment from view.

The professor, while heartily amused at his answer, narrowed her eyes at the last word, and it did not escape her notice how James and Remus were trying to look innocent.

"Now that you've assured me, Mr. Black, do I have the Marauders' permission to proceed with the lesson?" she asked

Sirius simply waved his hand in a regal manner and leaned back in his chair.

It was early in the year, the middle of October. The leaves were starting to turn red and yellow and orange around the edges. In the mornings great screens of mist hovered above the lake and around the castle, obscuring the Forbidden Forest from view. Pumpkins were growing larger and students were starting to get back into the rhythm of school after two months of holiday. Professor McGonagall prepared herself.

"Now that I have everyone's attention," Professor McGonagall said, with a sly look towards the back of the room, "I am sorry to say—for your sakes—that our next section will commence with a project that will count for fifty percent of your grade—"

She was interrupted by a loud, large smattering of barely repressed groans from the class in front of her.

"Yes," she said, bringing the noise level back down. "Yes, it will count for fifty percent of your grade. You will do it in pairs"—everyone seemed to brighten at this bit of news—"which _I_ will assign." It was as if someone had let all the air out of a balloon, that's how deflated they looked.

Professor McGonagall seemed unfazed as she continued, ignoring the glowering looks she was receiving and the nervous, jumpy people who were hoping with all their might to be paired (or not to be paired) with certain someones.

One of said jumpy people was one Lily Evans. She had been in Advanced Transfiguration ever since fifth year, and she had not, so far, been paired with any of the famous (or, depending on who you were talking to, infamous) Marauders. Crossing her fingers under the desk, Lily, determined not to glance towards the back of the room, hoped with all her might to be paired with someone else.

For the past two years James Potter had relentlessly asked her out, nearly every day, and while at first it had been sort of annoying in a charming, flirty way, it had quickly turned into a vulgar, unbearable process that Lily couldn't stand. She had never agreed to go out with James, and she promised herself that she never would. When Lily had discovered on the train, just last month, that she, Head Girl, was to be sharing her new rooms with James Potter who had somehow miraculously hoodwinked Dumbledore into making him Head Boy, she had nearly died from a coronary. But James had been all politeness to her all year, at least so far. He hadn't asked her out once and mainly kept to himself or was with his friends, which was just fine with Lily, so long as they weren't bothering her. In fact, she preferred that their relationship stay that way, in the civil, just polite atmosphere.

She listened as Professor McGonagall went on to explain the project and what would be expected of them in their assigned partner groups. The project was due in a little over two weeks, on the first of November, and they'd have to give a presentation to the rest of the class as well as write separate essays on their topic. The essays were to be two rolls of parchment dedicated to the history of their topic, the correct way to use it, mishaps that had perhaps happened if it had been misused, and, of course, the real dinger, why it is important to wizarding society and how wizards depend upon it in everyday life. They were free to choose any subject, so long as it had to do with Transfiguration, and Lily already had some idea of what she wanted to research.

Taking out a list from her desk, Professor McGonagall started to read aloud. "Albani, Yewer . . . Attkinson, Willis . . . Bath, Warrington . . . Catly, von Lisbeth . . ."

It seemed to Lily that McGonagall had taken the class list and folded it in half. A few names were out of order, and she supposed that the professor had gone through the list, making sure everyone was paired up with someone of the same skill.

" . . . Black, Tuttle . . ."

Lily turned to Margaret Tuttle, who was sitting next to her. The poor girl was brilliant at Transfiguration and was being paired with Sirius Black?! What had McGonagall been thinking? Sirius gave a little wave at his partner, a broad grin on his handsomely smug face. Margaret started at the pat of Lily's hand on hers and gave a rather watery smile that was more of a grimace. Most girls Lily knew would have jumped at the chance to be partners with Sirius "Bad Boy" Black, but Margaret was one of the few, like Lily, who usually preferred brains over looks.

". . . Dean, Snape . . . Duncan, Sannet . . ."

Perched on the edge of her chair, Lily could barely refrain from biting her nails. _Oh, please_, she thought desperately. Mentally pairing up her classmates by their surnames, Lily sighed once she realised she had missed being James Potter's partner by one person. A relieved smile lit her face, and she slumped in her chair, happy to have the weight of worry taken off her shoulders. Thank Merlin!

". . . Edwing, Rochester . . . Elwell, Rastner . . ."

Lily's head snapped up. No! She had forgotten that Cecily Elwell took Advanced Transfiguration. She had been added a month ago, though Lily had no idea why, as in her opinion Cecily was one of the dumbest people Lily had ever had the misfortune to meet. She was as stereotypical as a person could be without blowing up and becoming a rude picture in a magazine. She was pureblood, Hufflepuff, as blonde as sunshine, as curvaceous as a ball, as dumb as pond scum, and had a nasty, high-pitched giggle to top it all off—the real icing on the cake. Lily knew her grades were not the most desired letters, so she didn't see why McGonagall didn't just throw Cecily out.

Lily couldn't help but feel sorry for George Rastner, though. George was Muggleborn, a likable guy, and dependable and honest. Lily would not have minded being his partner in the least. They had Potions with the Ravenclaws, and she had been his partner in that class for more than one project. But if Cecily was paired up with Rastner, that meant—

". . .Evans, Potter . . ."

The clipped, efficient tone of McGonagall made her want to scream. Lily had always liked Professor McGonagall. She was strict and to the point. There was no foolishness in her classroom, and since praise was so rare from her, it was cherished all the more whenever it was given. Lily had thought Professor McGonagall had known how much she detested James Potter, but perhaps she had been mistaken. Teachers couldn't be all-knowing, now could they? Though Lily had always thought Dumbledore to be as near all-knowing as possible, and look at how he had paired them up. Maybe it was all a conspiracy…

Peeking over her shoulder, Lily looked back at the corner of Marauders. Sirius and Remus were laughing loudly, but James was just sitting there, looking over at Lily. When their eyes locked, he smiled good naturedly, but his attention was diverted when Sirius leaned over and slapped him on the back, obviously making some rude comment about the opposite sex, if Remus's blush or Meryl von Lisbeth's disgusted glare accounted for anything.

Jerking around, Lily flushed with indignation. James probably thought she would do all the work and he could just sit there, fooling around with his stupid friends. Well, he had another thing coming that was for sure. Lily didn't understand how he got such good marks when he never seemed to study. There was a rumor that he was a bit of a prodigy when it came to Transfiguration, but Lily had somehow always doubted that, even if the subject did seem to take no effort on his part.

She seriously doubted that they could work together. He was such a bigheaded idiot, only using his own ideas, never giving anyone else a chance to get a word in edgewise. Manipulative bastard. And missing all those Head and prefect meetings because of Quidditch practice?

Lily would rather French kiss Snape than bet that James was telling the truth.

She wondered if McGonagall would let her switch partners if she asked. Cecily would be much more suited to James Potter than she was. He was always dating bimbos anyway, why not give him another one? At least then he'd have to actually work if he wanted to get a good grade.

Determined that this was what she'd do, and very pleased that she had a plan, Lily lived through the rest of the class tolerably well, focused only on what she'd say to McGonagall after class was over, and never realising that a pair of hazel eyes from the back row were gazing at the back of her head.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

After McGonagall had dismissed the class, Lily stayed seated at her desk, gathering the rest of her papers slowly, still wondering just what she was going to say to the professor. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, distracting her so much she accidentally cut herself on her notes about conjuring. Sucking on her paper-cut left index finger, Lily was just about to stand up and go over to McGonagall's desk when someone's shadow stopped over her desk, and that someone cleared his voice to get her attention.

Lily glanced up and frowned. James was standing there, his dark hair purposely mussed up, and a soft look in his eyes. She didn't have time for this. She needed to talk to McGonagall, alone, before the professor left for lunch with the rest of the class.

"What do you want?" she asked, stacking her notes and standing up, mentally groping for her bag.

"Well…we're partners. And I thought—"

"Yes," Lily said rudely, cutting him off. "We _are_ partners. A matter I wish to rectify as soon as possible. So, if you excuse me, there's something I have to talk to McGonagall about."

Grabbing her bag, Lily strode to the front of the room to Professor McGonagall's dark oak desk, leaving a confused, and slightly amused, James behind.

McGonagall looked up over her square spectacles. "Yes, Miss Evans?" she asked.

Lily hadn't wished to talk about changing partners in front of other people, but it was James's own fault for not leaving with the rest of the class.

"Well, I was wondering if I could talk to you about your choice of my partner, Professor," Lily said softly.

Professor McGonagall put her quill down and folded her hands in her lap. She knew someone was going to complain about their partner. No doubt she'd get a score of owls over breakfast tomorrow, asking if students could switch.

"What about your partner, Miss Evans?" Professor McGonagall said in her normal voice.

"It's just that…well, I was wondering if I could switch. I know Cecily Elwell would be much better suited as Potter's partner, and I've been George's partner before in Potions, so, if we all just switched, everyone would be happy—"

"I did not assign you a partner so that you could be happy, Miss Evans. And it is Miss Elwell or Mr. Rastner who will talk to me about their own affairs, not you. I assigned partners based on ability in the classroom."

"But Professor," Lily protested, "I already have Head duties with Potter. I spend enough time with him as it is. I don't see why I have to be his Transfiguration partner, too."

"You do have Head duties together," Professor McGonagall replied. "It should be easy to agree upon times to meet in the library, research, and come up with a topic since you see so much of each other."

"But Professor—"

"I am certain Professor Dumbledore had a good reason for making you two Head Boy and Head Girl together, just as _I_ have a good reason for placing you two together. I will not let you switch to a different partner. And," seeing Lily open her mouth in protest, "that is the last I will speak with you on the matter. I trust you understand me, Miss Evans?" McGonagall raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, Professor," Lily mumbled. Her paper cut was stinging and still bleeding, she had a headache, and she was still partners with Potter. Brilliant.

"Good." McGonagall picked up her quill and said, "Then I suggest you get to lunch with the rest of your classmates."

Lily turned away and hurriedly exited the classroom, nearly crashing into someone. Meryl von Lisbeth picked up her dropped book and looked questioningly at Lily.

"So?' she asked. "Did McGonagall switch you?"

"What do you think?" Lily answered stiffly, as they set off down the corridor to the Great Hall. "She didn't even consider it, just talked about how she 'placed us together for a reason.'"

Meryl nodded absent mindedly. "Rotten luck." They took their seats at the Gryffindor table and, glancing down the table to the right, Meryl sighed. "I don't know why McGonagall put me with Ed Cartly. That's the second time I've missed being partners with Sirius Black." She picked at her salad. "Either I'm too smart or too dumb for him, or he bribed McGonagall into placing him with Margaret Tuttle. I don't understand that girl. Anyone else would be thrilled to be assigned as Sirius Black's partner—but not Maggie."

Lily stared at her friend. "I don't understand _you_. Who would _want_ to be Black's partner? He's rich and popular, pureblooded and snotty, a smarmy ladies man who fancies himself Merlin's gift to women, and an egotistical prat—oh no, wait; I've just described the whole of the Marauders' gang. They're all of them the same."

"Lighten up, Lily." Meryl shook her head. "Sometimes I don't understand _you_. You keep getting grouped with James Potter, Quidditch Captain, Head Boy and leader of the Marauders, a charming guy who seems to genuinely like you, and you just complain about how he's popular and pureblooded, like that automatically makes him a prick, and you just push him away. Any girl would give her wand arm for that."

"Yeah, well, I'm not 'any girl,'" Lily snapped. She accidentally slammed the pumpkin juice jug down too hard and some of its contents slopped over the sides, soaking the tabletop. The fifth year boy sitting across from her gave her a strange look. "And a girl shouldn't define herself by who she's going out with, or who she likes," she continued, glaring at the boy. He grabbed his books and quickly fled from his seat. "You should be your own person. And I am. And I like who I am. And I happen to not like James Potter, or the fact that I'm his partner in nearly everything that we seem to do, so cut me some slack, okay?" Lily was riled up now, ready to pounce on the next person who even mentioned one of the Marauders' names, or that stupid Transfiguration assignment.

"Gosh, don't have a cow, Lily," Meryl said, adding more chicken to her plate. "Maybe you should cut James Potter some slack. I mean, it's not his fault that you two are constantly put together. You _are_ the smartest ones in the class, so naturally you'd be put together—especially since you basically take all the same classes—"

She stopped talking when Lily jumped up, throwing her bag over her shoulder and swallowing the last of her mashed potatoes.

"Can we talk later?" Lily asked wearily. "I have some stuff to do."

And with that she took off from the Great Hall at full speed, nearly knocking over a group of first and second year Hufflepuffs like a set of nine pins. She needed to get out of there. Just one more word about James Potter and she'd scream. Lily knew how Meryl thought she was always so judgmental when it came to Potter. Meryl seemed to have a soft spot when it came to the Marauders that Lily just didn't understand. In her eyes they were still foolish boys who played mean pranks on unsuspecting first years and innocent girls, and made fun of the Slytherins.

Seventh years had Friday afternoons off and most spent them wandering around the school or the grounds or sitting in front of the Common Room fireplaces telling jokes and playing wizard's chess or Exploding Snap. Many people were procrastinators, Lily found, and left everything off until Sunday night, when there was a mad rush to finish writing essays and drawing star charts in preparation for the upcoming Monday morning. Because of this, Lily always found the library practically deserted every Friday afternoon, and she counted on it. It was one of the only times during the week when she could sit by herself and go over her assignments and work to her heart's content. And now she was using it as a hideaway too, from Meryl and James Potter, and the rest of the school who was in love with him and kept pairing the two of them together.

Lily sat down to work and finished two Advanced Charms essays, three star charts, and a particularly nasty Arithmancy project outline all by 7 o'clock. She knew she'd eventually have to face James Potter and work with him, not only about their Transfiguration assignment, but also about Head duties. But that could wait. First, she was going to eat dinner (which her stomach had been asking for two hours ago—lunch had been cut short) and take a nice long, hot shower, both of which sounded sinfully good.

Just as she started to pack up her things, Lily felt a hand on her shoulder and nearly jumped out of her skin. Startled into action, Lily whipped around, wand in ready position, her bag falling over and papers scattering everywhere. She was surprised to see a pair of hazel eyes staring back at her, a question written in them.

"Going to hex me now, too?" James asked, stooping down to gather some papers.

"I should've," Lily muttered, putting her wand down. "You don't need to touch my notes, Potter. I can get them myself."

James sat back on his heels as she crouched to collect the rest of her notes that had fallen. She felt his eyes watching her, and felt uneasy.

"Something you wanted?" she asked, eyes and hands still focused on her task.

"You always attack other innocents in the library?" he said, watching her work, a twinkle in his eye.

"No," Lily snapped. "You startled me. Do _you_ make it a habit to always scare unsuspecting people out of their wits?"

James thought for a while. "Sort of," he replied, a mock serious look on his face as they both stood up. "It's all part of what us Marauders do."

Lily snorted and grabbed her bag, walking towards the exit of the library.

"And just why are you following me, Potter?" she asked, turning to him in the middle of the corridor. "I do have things to do, you know."

James nodded. "I know." He paused for a moment, a look in his eye that Lily couldn't place. "So McGonagall wouldn't let you switch partners, then?" He cocked his head slightly and dug his hands in his pockets.

"It's none of your business what I talk to Professor McGonagall about," Lily replied. "Besides, it's rude to eavesdrop."

"Well you didn't exactly speak to her in private," he said defensively. "I _was_ in the room at the time. It wasn't like I couldn't not overhear."

"You didn't have to stay in the room," Lily shot back. She adjusted the shoulder strap of her bag. "You should have left to go eat lunch with the rest of your impossible gang."

James took a step closer to her. "I stayed because I was going to talk to you about our project. I do have some ideas, you know."

"Really, well, that's a first. I do believe this is the first time that James Potter has ever had an idea on his own. Good job," Lily said, inching around him starting to walk down the corridor again.

"Evans," James called rather impatiently at her back, "I'm not through talking to you yet."

"Yeah, well, I'm through talking to you, and I don't really care what you have to say," Lily replied, not even bothering to turn around as she continued walking. "Bother me later, Potter."

James was fuming. Why was it that whenever he talked to Lily Evans they ended up in a quarrel, biting each other's heads off? He just wanted to talk to her, for Merlin's sake. Not to be outdone, James's took off after her down the corridor, determined to get his point across.

Grabbing her arm, James pulled Lily to a stop, swinging her around to face him. He couldn't help but notice how flushed she looked, and how her emerald eyes sparkled in a way that they only ever did for one person: him.

"Unhand me. Now," Lily growled through gritted teeth, venom dripping from every word.

James pretended not to hear her (how often did he ever get to touch her, even if he was only gripping her forearm?). "I said I have some ideas for our project," he said calmly, hoping to Merlin some of his self control would rub off on her (metaphorically, that is; James doubted whether any part of him would ever actually rub against Lily Evans without her murdering him first). "I've been trying to talk to you all day about the Transfiguration assignment. You practically flew down the hall to lunch before, and I had to search half the castle before I found you in the library."

"Stalking me now, eh?" Lily asked, trying to wrench her arm from his grasp. "I never knew that was one of your hobbies."

James let the comment pass. "Do you always spend Friday afternoons hidden away in the library doing homework?"

Lily blushed angrily. "What I do with my time is my own business. Not yours."

Look down at the arm he was holding, James noticed she had a somewhat fresh paper cut on her index finger. He was suddenly overcome with the urge to bring her hand up and kiss that finger. Quickly dropping her arm, James tried to compose himself.

"Look." James took a breath. "Look, like I said before, I want to talk to you about our project—"

"I know," Lily interrupted. "You've said so three times already." Looking down the corridor towards the Great Hall, she said, "We can meet tomorrow and talk about it. Right now I have an appointment with a piece of Sheppard's Pie that I'm rather late for. So, I need to get to the Great Hall."

James stared at her. "Tomorrow?"

"Yes, tomorrow." Lily gave him a bewildered look. "Why not tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow's Saturday." James seemed to think that the words themselves had all the explanation necessary.

"So what if it is?" Lily asked. "We'll start working on it tomorrow. Write down your ideas if you're going to forget them. I will not do this assignment at the last minute and turn it in sloppy and late." It would be just like Potter to think being a procrastinator was something to be proud of.

"We have two weeks to finish it," James said, the idea of doing something in advance seemingly lost on him.

"Then that gives us all the more time to do everything thoroughly," Lily replied, itching to get to the Great Hall. Her stomach felt like it was going to die if it didn't get any food soon. Merlin, she could smell the Sheppard Pie from here!

"Right then," she said, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. "See you in the library at eight."

And with that, Lily strode down the corridor toward the Great Hall, leaving a somewhat speechless James Potter in her wake, who was still trying to fathom the reason why anyone would ever get up so early on a weekend unless they were going to practice Quidditch.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter three

Lily sighed, recrossing her legs under the table and tapping her fingers on the desk.

He was late.

Of course, Lily had realized as soon as she sat down to dinner last night that it might have been a bad idea to have scheduled a meeting with James Potter on a Saturday morning. She had never even seen him up before noon on weekends before, so she doubted that he'd actually meet her in the library. On leaving her own room this morning, Lily had checked to see if James was up, but his room had been empty. At the time she had thought he had gotten up early to meet her in the library, but now she knew that it wasn't the case.

She should have expected it, Lily knew that, but somehow she had hoped that James had matured a little and was actually going to work on this project with her and keep his word. At least she'd know better in the future, she thought, checking her watch. It was 8:40. There was no way she was going to spend the rest of her day wasting it on waiting for James Potter.

Flipping open her textbook, Lily reached for her Advanced Transfiguration notebook just as the doors to the library swung open. In raced a dark-haired somebody carrying a slightly empty-looking bag.

Lily put down her quill and frowned, cocking an annoyed eyebrow, wondering what kind of excuse he'd make up this time.

James sat down across from her, breathing somewhat heavily. His hair was dripping, as if he'd just taken a shower, the top three buttons on his shirt were undone, and his uniform jumper was nowhere to be found. His face was flushed and his eyes were apologetic. Lily noticed his glasses were slightly askew and foggy.

All in all, he was what every girl dreamed of.

"Sorry," he panted, reaching into his bag to get a notebook and his quill. There were shadows under his eyes.

"Late night?" Lily asked tersely, her words clipped and full of frustrated energy.

"You could say," James shrugged, opening his notebook. "I sort of overslept and had to take a shower," he explained, as a bead of water slid from his ear down his neck and slowly made its way until it disappeared under his shirt collar.

Lily, ignoring the tantalizing image of him taking a shower, clucked her tongue and gave a slightly unamused snort, but otherwise didn't comment.

"What? You don't believe me?" James asked, his eyes focusing on her face.

Lily shook her head, exasperated. "Thanks for coming on time," she muttered, rearranging some notes.

"Look, I said I was sorry," James said, leaning forward in his chair.

"Sure you did," Lily answered, nodding—nodding in a way that made James feel as thought she meant the exact opposite of what she said.

"What more do you want?" James asked. He was entirely bewildered. He'd said he was sorry. Couldn't they just start working? Why did she have to make every little thing into some huge problem? "I apologized and I'm ready to start working, even if I'm a little late. Doesn't that count for anything?"

"You might not have been late if—" Lily stopped herself, shaking her head. "Nevermind."

"Nevermind what?" James asked. "I 'might not have been late if…' what?"

"Nothing," Lily said. "Shall we get down to work?"

"No," James answered. He shook his head. "I don't get it. I couldn't exactly help being late, I told you. I was out late last night—"

"My point exactly," Lily said angrily, throwing down her quill. "If you hadn't been out late doing…_Merlin knows what_, you wouldn't have shown up _late_ and wasted forty-five minutes of _my_ time."

"Wasted your time?" James snorted. "You're the one that's wasting time right now. And like I said, I couldn't exactly _help_ it—"

"Yes, you could have," Lily interrupted. Why was he being so difficult? "You needn't have gone out with your friends, or out with a girl, or whatever you were doing last night."

James was annoyed. "It was Friday night, Evans. Not all of us sit up in our dorms reading with nothing better to do," he snapped. "And maybe I didn't have to stay out late, but it's not my fault it was a full—" James cut himself off abruptly, frustrated and not really knowing why they were arguing. He silently cursed himself for mentioning the moon.

Lily knew she was blushing. She felt her cheeks burn and the heat spread across the rest of her face and covered her entire body, all the way from the top of her fiery head to the tips of her black-clad toes.

Biting her tongue and shaking with thinly concealed anger, Lily started gathering up her things. She didn't know what he was going on about, and she didn't really care. All she knew was that practically saying to her face that he thought she was a friendless, no-fun, goody-goody prude hurt, even when she told herself that his opinion shouldn't matter to her. There was no way she could ever work with Potter. She didn't know what anyone saw in him. Dumbledore and the rest of the school must be blind, she decided.

As she reached for her quill, James's hand closed over hers, warm and apologizing. But before she knew what she was doing, she grabbed her quill and jabbed the tip of it into his hand. James jumped back, nursing his pricked hand, staring at her.

"Don't touch me, Potter," she spat. Lily threw her quill at her bag. "And just so you know, last night I wasn't locked up in my dormitory reading or studying or doing whatever the … the _fuck_ you think I do. And what I do with my time is _my_ business and not yours. I can sneak up to the astronomy tower with George Rastner and snog his brains out or I can curl up in front of the fire planning Head Duties, but it's none of your business what I do to spend my time. Not all of us go romping around breaking rules and pranking hardworking people for a laugh every Friday night." Lily was breathing hard. She braced herself against the table and leaned forward, the better to yell in his face. "That was just the sort of comment I expect from you, Potter. It seems you haven't grown up at all. You're still the bossy, big-headed little first year I remember." Even though she saw him wince, Lily didn't let up. "I don't think we're working all that well together," she said. "I'm going to do this assignment on my own and hand it in with only my name on it. I don't care if you fail and have to retake a class, but I'm not going to work with a good-for-nothing prick who doesn't take other people's feelings into account before he opens his big fat mouth."

Lily shoved the table as she stood up straight, sending it straight into James's chest. She grabbed her bag and stomped toward the doors of the library, ignoring the shocked look on the librarian's face and fuming so much she wouldn't have been surprised if her ears were giving off smoke.

James sat there for a minute, the wind knocked out of him, holding his injured hand. He didn't know if he was more shocked by her outburst or by the fact that she'd cursed. He had never, ever known Lily Evans to curse before in his life. She was always telling people off for it; and for her to curse at him like that…Standing up so suddenly his chair fell over, James ran after Lily as she neared the exit.

Getting in front of her to block her way, James crossed his arms and sent a glare right back at Lily, who was positively glowing with anger. He knew she had blown this thing up out of proportion, but right then he didn't even really care. Not when he knew he was the cause of her gorgeous eyes to glow so brightly.

Even though they were glaring at him in anger rather than gazing at him with love.

"Get out of my way," Lily growled menacingly. James had the sudden image of her bowling him over with her heavy school bag in her mad rush to get out of the library.

Shaking his head, James took a deep breath and held out a hand.

"I know you think I'm a dimwitted prick, and you're right." James hesitated for only an instant. "I'm sorry." There, the words were out. He had never said them to her after a row before. "I didn't mean anything by commenting on your habit of staying up late to read on Fridays. It was a stupid thing to say, especially since I think it's a right cute habit—" he saw her eyes narrow "—and I'm sorry I spoke before I thought. I didn't mean to stay out so late last night that I overslept, but I did. And I'm sorry. But believe me when I swear that we weren't out late for a lark," James said. Some of the tension drained from her shoulders. "I don't even really understand what we're quarreling about, so, can we just shake hands and pretend I didn't show up late and that none of this ever happened?"

Lily was touched by his apology (_apologies_, she corrected herself), but a few "sorrys" didn't completely heal the wound he had created. She wasn't exactly certain why his words hurt her so much, but they did.

"Apology accepted," Lily said softly, ignoring his outstretched hand, which was obviously waiting to be shaken. She stepped around him, their shoulders brushing for an instant, and opened the door. She tried to overlook the disappointment in his eyes when his arm dropped to his side, hand un-shaken.

"Listen," he said. Lily paused, her back to him. "We just have to suck it up and work on this project together without biting each others' heads off. The least—the least we can be is civil." He seemed to regret their quarrel.

"I will if you will," Lily responded. "Sorry about your hand."

"It's okay," James said awkwardly.

Lily cleared her throat.

"I—I have some other things to do, but maybe we can work on our assignment tonight after dinner." And with that she swept out through the door.

"Sure," James whispered softly to her back as she made her way down the empty corridor. "Sure."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

James slouched in his chair, nervously running a hand through his untidy hair, making it even untidier. He didn't know why he was nervous, but he was, for some odd reason. It wasn't as if this was a _date _or anything…

Groaning, he leaned forward and put his face in his hands. He couldn't believe that had just gone through his mind! If anyone knew without a doubt that this _wasn't_ a date, it was him. He had enough experience with Lily that he knew if she looked at him without glaring or threatening to hex him, she was either going mad or had been the victim of a particularly strong Cheering Charm.

And why was he thinking about dates, anyway? This was just a stupid Transfiguration assignment. Schoolwork was probably the farthest thing _from_ a date. And anyway, Lily hadn't ever said yes to him and he'd been asking her out steadily for almost three years…

James shook his head. He didn't really understand _why_ she kept saying no. He was an alright bloke—no Death Eater or creepy perv like some guys he knew. He was brilliant at schoolwork, brilliant at Quidditch, brilliant at planning pranks…According to Lily most of those things made him a conceited prat who didn't think of anyone but himself. James thought this was unfair. Yes, sometimes smart or popular people were conceited and selfish, but he didn't think he was. He tutored second years in Transfiguration, studied hard, even if it didn't seem like it, and tried to be friendly whenever possible. True, the Marauders were his and Sirius's idea; he did prank a ton of people, but everyone deserved a good laugh every now and then, yeah? And yes, perhaps he was a little cheeky in class, but the teachers didn't mind, it made class interesting. Hell, he swore he'd seen McGonagall all out_ smirking_ the other day when he told Orion Muws off for being a prat and not listening when McGonagall was talking, the stupid berk. Sure, he never made prefect (he wasn't much for rules, it was true) but that hardly seemed to have harmed him. He was Head Boy, for crying out loud!

Though James did have to agree somewhat with Lily: he had a suspicion that Dumbledore had completely gone off his rocker and turned mental when making him Head Boy. Lily as Head Girl was easy to understand. But him? He'd probably broken more school rules than all the rest of his class (not including Sirius, Remus, and Peter, of course) combined. He'd gotten detention for a number of things throughout the years; his record being two whole months last year for continually teasing Madam Beech-Clover's (the Hogwarts nurse) apprentice, Miss Pompfrey about her hair. It wasn't his fault if the girl had a crush on him and abused her power to get him to scrub hospital beds with her late at night—not that he wanted to. Poppy wasn't that good-looking of a bird and a bit too preoccupied with staying on as nurse-apprentice for James's tastes, but she was rather funny and it wasn't as if he had any power to stop her from giving him the detentions.

The Head common room door burst open just then, startling James from his thoughts. He sat up straighter and prepared to grin in greeting to the pretty redhead that was sure to come walking through the doors, but stopped halfway, gaping instead.

In front of him stood his best friend, and fellow marauder, Sirius Black. His dark hair was long, but set off his angular face well, and his clothes looked tastefully rumpled, as if he'd just come from some serious snogging in a broom closet with some pretty bird. Sirius grinned and plopped down in a cushy armchair, folding his arms behind his head.

"So this is the Head's common room, eh?" he said, peering around the room, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Bit big for only two people." He looked slyly at James. "'Course…if you'd just be a doll and give up the password every now and then I wouldn't have to spend so much time and energy trying to break in, and then we Marauders could do what we do best—"

"Sirius, how many times must I tell you to butt out of Head business?" James asked, rather annoyed. He had been preparing himself for another meeting with Lily. A meeting where they'd have to talk and act courteously, a meeting where they'd be in close contact and stay up nights working and talking and planning and…

"Head _business_, huh?" Sirius snorted. "Is that what they're calling it now?"

James glowered at him. "We're supposed to be working on our Transfiguration project and _you're_ not supposed to be here—"

"Jimmy, my boy," Sirius interrupted, a note of mock alarm in his voice, "You can't possibly be thinking of actually starting your assignment on _time_, can you? We Marauders should take pride in procrastinating, pulling pranks, teasing the female population of the school, hexing the Slytherin population of the school, and—"

"Save the speech, Sirius. I know all about the code of the Marauders, seeing as how I helped write it," James said tiredly. He wasn't quite sure how to handle his best friend. Ever since last June… "Evans and I need to work and she's bound to show up any moment, so clear out, will you?"

Sirius looked rather affronted. "James, you know that I know that you know that we know that I know that you know that it's taken _me_ nearly two months to crack the password on the portrait outside the door, and I do not intend to give up my rights as a breaking-and-entering friend of yours just so you and Evans can have some private snogging sessions—"

"Some private _what_, now?"

Both boys turned toward the portrait opening. James felt as if someone had just dumped a bucket of ice into his stomach and looked rather sick, while Sirius, not at all abashed, looked as if Christmas had come early.

"_Snogging_, Evans," Sirius repeated, raising an eyebrow. "You _do_ know what that is, right?" He grinned in anticipation of the storm that was brewing in Lily's eyes.

Ignoring the comment, Lily turned to James. "What is he doing in here, Potter?" she whispered through clenched teeth. She looked furious. Her curly red hair had escaped any attempt to keep it tidy and was a therefore a large cloud around her head. Her green eyes flashed dangerously, and James was surprised by how much her mouth could get so thin as to resemble McGonagall's.

"He found out the password and—"

"And I couldn't help myself, Lily-flower," Sirius interrupted. "I just had to see first hand what this place looks like. You hear so many rumors, you know." He grinned toothily at her, tapping his nose.

She rounded on him, dropping her bag on the ground and throwing her books on one of the nearby tables.

"You!" she said threateningly. "You're not supposed to be in here. This is the private common room for the Head Boy and Girl, and visitors are not allowed, not even if," and here she threw James a rather nasty look, "one of the Heads invites someone."

James held up his hands in surrender. "I didn't invite him here," he said, looking at Lily apologetically. "He invited himself. How was I to know that today would be the day that the Velma the Vivacious Hippo would crack and Sirius finally get the password?"

Lily stared at him for a moment, uncertain as whether to believe him or not.

She frowned and nodded slowly, as if reluctant to accept his word. "I wondered why her eyes were glazed over just now," Lily murmured. Then she glared at Sirius. "Not only have you come in here uninvited—_and_ against the rules—you also probably damaged an important portrait that's just been doing her job—"

"Aw, lay off, Evans," Sirius yawned. "Now that I've got here and little Jamsie-poo isn't remotely interested and you're both determined to be so boring, I think I'll leave." He stood up, strolling passed an incredulous Lily, aiming for the door. He paused, and looked back at James. "I think I'm going to go see how Moony's fury little problem is doing," he said meaningfully, and then he opened the portrait hole and was gone.

Lily stood there for a second, staring at the door.

"Sorry about him, I think he's a bit mad," James said seriously, looking at over at Lily. Sirius had been known to act rather insane, but the event that had illustrated his madness the most was the full moon last June...James still wasn't sure if Remus had forgiven Sirius completely yet, and he knew that Remus still had trouble looking Snape in the eyes...

Lily nodded absently, grabbing her bag and striding over to the table James was sitting at.

"He shouldn't have come," she muttered, under her breath, taking out her quill and notebooks.

"I know," James said carefully. "I told him off for coming. I told him we had work to do. He's just a bit cheeky is all."

Lily glanced up at him, a bit surprised that he had said as much to Sirius. She looked back down at her books. This was the first time she had ever really been in the Head common room with James alone before—at least to work for a number of hours. It was the middle of October and so far there hadn't been many Head duties they had to go through together. He seemed ready to work now. He had his books and quill, and was even a bit early, which was nice, and added to the apology she'd received from him in the morning.

Smiling to herself and flipping open her notebook, Lily folded her hands and looked at James expectantly. "First I think we should decide—and agree—what to do our project on," she said.

_Where else would we start?_ he wondered to himself. He looked at her a little uncertainly. "Well…should we list some ideas first, then?" he asked.

Lily nodded, grabbed her quill and poised it above her notebook. She looked at him expectantly again. This was turning out better than she'd hoped. _Let's see what you've got, Potter_, she thought.

"Er…"

James was a bit disconcerted with Lily's attitude. They were supposed to work together—Maybe she was just testing him, to see if he had any ideas.

He took a deep breath and started, "Right…well, I suppose there's always human transfiguration—"

"I heard Jordan Bath and Charles Warrington discussing that," Lily interrupted promptly. "It's so overdone. Half the class is probably researching it, so 1) we'll be just like everybody else, and 2) all the books will be out of the library. _And_ it's the most obvious topic; everyone already knows about it." She gave him a look. "But of course, this is brain storming, so no idea is a bad idea!" Scathingly, she wrote down _human transfiguration_ in her tidy script in her notebook and looked back up at James, a small satisfactory smile tugging at her lips.

"Right…" James bit his tongue, holding back a retort. "Well then, we could do Switching Spells—"

"Please," Lily interrupted again. "We learned about that in fifth year." But she once again wrote down his suggestion with a strange smile on her face.

James gave her a dirty look. "Or Vanishing spells—"

"—again, fifth year—"

"—or Conjuring—"

"—it's N.E.W.T. level, but the half of the class that isn't doing human transfiguration will be doing Conjuring. I mean, obviously, to get on Professor McGonagall's good side—"

"We could always do Animagi." James was glared at her, an indignant look in his eyes. He'd given her five perfectly good assignment topics and she'd ripped them all to shreds almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

Lily stared at him incredulously. "Animagi? We learned about that _ages_ ago! In third year, Potter—or, have you forgotten? Were you not paying attention back then?" Lily looked as if should would burst out laughing.

James frowned at her bad temperedly. "Alright, so we mentioned it _fleetingly_ in third year. McGonagall demonstrated it to us the first day, but we didn't really learn about it." He paused for a moment. "If there have only been seven registered so far in this century, then it must be pretty difficult, right?" He sought her eyes. "If it's so _easy_ why aren't there more? I imagine it takes quite a long time to go through all the steps and learn all the rules—plus the fact that the Ministry is involved and you have to register and everything. It's probably a hassle that a lot of people don't want to put up with." James paused again. "You like difficult stuff—Animagi should be difficult. Since it's so hard to do it's probably nearly impossible to find good books on it. Books that tell you how to do it as well as all the dangers and Ministry protocol and crap. You like challenges and could probably sniff out a book you wanted from ten miles away." James was warming up to the topic now, but wasn't sure what Lily thought of it. Since he knew so much about Animagi (for obvious reasons) it would be a breeze of an assignment to do, though perhaps a bit difficult not to accidentally give away that he _was_ in fact an unregistered Animagus—especially while working with Lily, who was probably the cleverest witch in his year, not to mention a girl he wanted to impress.

Sighing, James shook his head and waited for a response from Lily. When none came, he said flatly, "I've given you six topics, and if you hate all of them, I'd be delighted to hear what _you've_ got up your sleeve."

Lily bit her lip, thinking furiously. She hadn't thought that he'd be able to come up with such good ideas—true, one or two of them weren't the best (Vanishing? _Please_…), but the others weren't that bad. It was true that a few of them would be popular topics with the rest of the class, but all in all Lily was a bit pleased that James could think up so many topics so quickly. Last year they'd had a smaller, similar project about mammal transfiguration and Orion Muws had been her partner. It had been a disaster…he was as thick as a tree trunk and she'd had to do more than half the project by herself. At least it seemed James was willing to cooperate, especially after that little episode in the library (she wasn't very proud of it, but at least he was on time now). And it had always been rumored that James was a protégé at Transfiguration. If he was this fast at thinking up topics, perhaps he'd be some help in the research part of the assignment…

As to Animagi, Lily wasn't sure whether it was a good idea or not. True, they had learned about them in third year, but as James had said, it was fleetingly, and more of an introduction to the year than anything else. Not many people would choose a topic so remote, so they had a good chance of having an original topic. McGonagall was an Animagus, so it would be a bit of a suck-up job, but a subtle one.

Lily had never had a real curiosity about Animagi before. It was an interesting topic, it was true, but she didn't know much about it. It was curious that only seven people had registered so far in the century as Animagi, and there had to be a reason. Perhaps it was very difficult. Lily had heard that if attempted wrongly it could have disastrous results…

Lily turned to James in acceptance. "Do _you_ know anything about Animagi?"


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

"Yewer! You're going to have to learn to cover all three hoops _at the same time_ if we're going to win against Ravenclaw—Hoth! _Do_ stop showing off for your girlfriend down in the stands, it's making me queasy just looking at you!"

"Oh, lay off Potter! This isn't a real practice anyway!"

James chuckled as he soared through the air, the wind whipping his cloak behind him and the sun shining happily as it descended down in a swirl of twilight color. The Pitch was empty except for the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team (and, of course, Preston Hoth's girlfriend, who followed him everywhere), who were lazily flying around, playfully tossing the Quaffle to one another rather than having a serious practice. The first Quidditch game was coming up in November, and as Quidditch Captain, James knew quite well how hard they had to train, but today he'd decided to give them a break.

He was in too good a mood to take anything, even Quidditch, seriously.

It was Monday evening and two days ago he'd had his first meeting with Lily about their Transfiguration assignment. It had taken off with a rocky start, but had smoothed out once they'd finally decided on a topic—or really, once he had finally persuaded Lily that doing Animagi would be the best topic for them to choose.

She had been reluctant at first to acknowledge that any idea he could come up with could even be deemed worth thinking over, but eventually he'd made her see reason. Doing Animagi would be easy (at least for him). He knew a ton about it (obviously), it was a bit of a compliment to McGonagall (alright, they were basically sucking up, but that couldn't hurt much, could it?), and it really was a fascinating subject. The only problem was that James was at a loss as how to explain his vast knowledge about Animagi. He wasn't quite sure Lily would believe him if he told her that he'd mastered the technique, and even if she did believe him, what would stop her from letting loose the secret and getting him in trouble with the Ministry? He and she weren't exactly the "best-o'-friends."

As the bright orange light in the sky melted into vivid scarlet, dusky violet, and finally glowing blue, James landed softly on the Pitch and called the rest of the team to him, congratulating some on good flying and teasing others about their lazy behavior. It had been a good, restful practice and had only improved James's mood, which his teammates, apart from being surprised, were grateful for, and took this unexplained gift without question.

The team was heading off to the locker room to shower and change when a loud call came from across the field. They paused to get a better look at the person approaching and James was surprised, a bit delighted, and more uneasy than he would have admitted at the sight. What was Lily _doing_…?

"Potter!" Lily called again, strolling toward him with ease across the grassy Pitch. A frustrated glimmer was in her emerald eyes.

He stopped walking and waited for her to catch up as the rest of the team, shooting them both curious looks, continued on to the locker room.

"What is it?" James asked when she got within a few meters. He held his broom leaning up against his shoulder. Suddenly aware of how wind-blown his hair was, James hoped to Merlin that Lily wouldn't comment on it. At least she couldn't blame him for messing it up on purpose.

"I…" Lily paused, and looked uncertain as to why she was there in the first place. "Just wanted to make sure you remembered we had planned to work on our Transfiguration assignment tonight."

James nodded. "I did. I just ended practice. It's only about 6:30, yeah?"

Lily nodded.

"Well then, we have lots of time to work, right?"

Lily nodded again, and James wondered if this was the only reason she'd come to see him on the Pitch.

"Right," James continued, when Lily didn't say anything more. "Er…Well, I have to go to the locker room to shower and change, and then we can start working. Want to meet in the Heads' common room at seven?"

Lily nodded again, looking down and fiddling with her bag. "That's fine."

"Could you stop by the Great Hall and pick something up for me to eat on your way to the common room?"

Lily's head shot up and she regarded him with narrowed eyes. Apparently finding his request decent, she sniffed and replied, "I suppose I could, but only because it will stop you from lolly-gagging on your way back up to the common room."

Pursing her lips, she stuffed a note in his hands. "From McGonagall," she said, not elaborating. And with that she turned on her heel and swept across the Quidditch Pitch and back up to the castle, leaving behind a sweaty and confused James Potter.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

Lily wrenched open the main door to the castle and slammed it behind her, determined not to blush. Ten minutes ago she had entered the Great Hall, ready for dinner and wondering if Potter would remember to come to their research session when McGonagall had appeared out of nowhere and asked her to deliver a note to him. In a stagger of surprise and not having the perfect excuse at the time, Lily had agreed and found herself halfway down to the Pitch before she had even realized she'd left the Great Hall. Why was McGonagall sending Potter notes, anyway? And by student messenger? She could have just as easily sent an owl . . . At least, Lily figured, she could remind Potter about their research session that night while she delivered the message. She didn't want another episode like in the library. Then again, perhaps she had wanted him to forget the meeting so she could yell at him again. Maybe she had _wanted _to get in an argument with him; it was true they upset her more than she wanted to admit, but arguing with James Potter could sometimes be…almost…_enjoyable_…

Entering the Great Hall, Lily headed straight for the Gryffindor table, wondering what she should pick out for Potter's dinner. She half wanted to bring him back something disgusting, just as punishment for him sending her to be his servant, but she decided against it. He seemed to know a bunch about Animagi, and if she needed his help later with the project—and that was a very strong _if_—she wouldn't want to give him something to hold against her now.

"Hey, Lily," Meryl called from down the table.

Lily walked over to join her and plopped down wearily in the seat beside her friend. All the homework the professors had been giving lately was wearing her thin, especially with occasional Head duties, her Advanced Charms study group, the Slug Club, and now the Transfiguration assignment with Potter. Yawning, Lily started piling her plate up with food. She had shared a dorm room with Meryl for six years and this was the first year they had been apart.

"Where were you? You have break right before dinner, right?" Meryl chewed her salad, looking at her friend.

"I was down on the Pitch, discovering if Potter would remember to come to our research session tonight," Lily sniffed. In response to Meryl's questioning look, she added, "McGonagall made me deliver a note to him—What _is_ that?" She pointed to a large bowl in the middle of the table.

Meryl wrinkled her nose. "Colcannon. I don't like it much—my grandmum makes it all the time. It's kind of like cabbage and mashed potatoes."

Lily turned her attention to a plate of food that was practically untouched. There looked to be a number of large brown round things on it that expelled a rather spicy mincemeat like scent, rather like chili. "What's _that_?"

Meryl made a strange face. "Haggis."

Lily recoiled at once. "What is this: Scottish Monday? Is there a holiday I wasn't informed about?"

Meryl laughed into her pumpkin juice and sprayed the fourth year boy who was sitting across the table from them. He gave them both a sneer and got up at once, grabbing his bag and stomping out of the Great Hall like a drag queen.

"Maybe he was Scottish," Meryl said. "You shouldn't insult other people's county's native cooking, Lily."

Lily stabbed a carrot with her fork. "I think the reason he left was to get away from your dribbling mouth." Chewing the carrot thoughtfully, she asked, "What should I get Potter for dinner?"

Meryl nearly choked on her pumpkin juice again. "What?" Her eyes were wide.

"He asked me to pick him up something to eat while he showered. Then we can get down to work as soon as he comes to the common room." Lily smiled mischievously, her green eyes twinkling as she rethought her idea from before. "Should I bring him some haggis, do you think?"

Meryl glanced at the large platter of food. "Is that a good idea?"

Lily tossed her hair, and transferred one of the sheep stomach-covered haggis-filled spheres onto an empty plate. "He said bring him dinner. He didn't specify what he wanted." And in response to a look Meryl gave her, Lily said, "How do _you_ know that he doesn't like haggis?"

"Because I've never met someone who did."

"Why would there be a food that no one likes?" Lily asked pointedly.

"There's lots of food no one likes," Meryl said importantly. "Bubblegum flavored otterpops, canned green beans, rubbery, greasy pizza . . . see, there's lots of stuff."

Lily rolled her eyes. Picking up the plate with the haggis, she dumped some salad next to it and stood up. "It's nearly seven," she said. "I have to get going."

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

James brushed his damp hair out of his eyes and strolled down the corridor, his stomach grumbling loudly. He wondered what Lily had gotten him for dinner. Quidditch could really give a boy an appetite. Frowning slightly, James thought that it probably hadn't been the greatest idea he'd ever had, but decided that whatever it was she'd picked up for him, he could always nip down to the kitchens and grab something else later.

Turning the corner, James nearly bumped into Remus, who was coming from the library, his bag bulging with books. It was only a few days after the full moon and Remus had seen better days. Dark shadows lay under his eyes and his face was deathly pale with a rather pinched look, something James had grown accustom to over the years.

"Alright, Moony?" he asked. He had meant to visit his friend in the hospital wing on Saturday, but between arguing with Evans, tutoring some second years who were utterly failing Transfiguration, and completing the trunk loads of homework his teachers had assigned him, he hadn't found the time.

"Yeah," Remus responded, adjusting the handle of his bag. He sighed wearily, squinting out the window. "I'm as good as can be expected. October's always the worst. On your way somewhere?"

James smiled. "Yeah. Off to a study session with Evans. We're working on our Transfiguration Assignment." He gestured at Moony's bag. "Are those all . . ."

Nodding, Remus grinned. "Yeah. Orion Muws isn't exactly reliable, is he?"

James chuckled. "Sorry you got stuck with such a rotten partner."

"Sorry you got stuck with the girl your heart's pining over," Remus countered, a knowing look in his eyes. "What are you doing your project on, anyway?"

James shook his head. "Ah, I can't tell you Moony, old pal. It's a secret." He tapped his nose. "If I told you I'd have to kill you—otherwise Evans might kill me. And then where would I be?"

"In the ground?"

"Doing the project on my own," James corrected.

"Yeah," Remus agreed. He sighed. "Well, I have to get off to the common room. I can't work in the library. There's a ton of second year Ravenclaws that took over the Herbology section. Must be some extra credit or something, but they're being awfully loud, so if your meeting with Evans is there, you'd better find somewhere else to work."

"We're in the Heads' common room," James said. "And I'd better get going, or she _will_ kill me."

Remus smiled. "See you later then."

"Yeah."

Continuing down the corridor, James's thoughts were still on his friend. Now that he thought about it, the October moon always_ was_ the worst one. Although the one last June had been bad—but that wasn't necessarily the moon's fault . . . more his own friends' stupidity.

The memories of that day were never pleasant. They had prepared, as usual, for the full moon, had snuck down to the Whomping Willow, and everything had been going perfectly normal. Until Sirius had made some stupid-ass comment about an unexpected visitor and then everything had gone downhill. James had rushed to the opening of the secret passage, but Snape had been already halfway down the tunnel, sneering at him and laughing about how he was going to get them expelled for being out of bounds, probably drinking and fooling around.

And the little shit-head hadn't _listened_ to him.

James had tried to warn him, had tried to threaten him, had tried to agree to give up and go to the Headmaster's office right away and turn himself in for "being out of bounds," but Snape hadn't listened, and had chosen instead to nearly get himself killed.

James could still see the look in Snape's eyes when he dreamed sometimes. The horror, the fear, the disgust, the confusion. If Sirius hadn't fought Moony back in his dog form when James had pushed Snape back down the tunnel, they all could have been in serious trouble: with the Headmaster, with the school, and with the law. More than one could have died that night.

And Sirius had been stubborn for weeks after. He hadn't seen that it had been a foolish and stupid thing to do. Sure, they all disliked Snape. They made fun of him and taunted him, and sometimes hated him, but he could have _died_. Murder is a lot more serious than a prank that lands you in detention for a week, and James had had a hard time convincing Sirius of the truth of it.

It had nearly ripped apart their friendship. Remus wasn't talking to anybody, Sirius wasn't talking to Remus or James, James wasn't talking to Sirius . . . Peter hadn't really done anything, he'd been in the Shrieking Shack the whole time, but the shock of being in the middle of a fight between your three best friends had made him scarce for awhile. It seemed like the end of the Marauders.

But Sirius had finally seen reason, albeit a bit reluctantly. Running away from his house that summer had seemed to pull back the film over his eyes, and he'd been ready to apologize and they started to patch things up. Remus was still a bit short with him occasionally, but James could see the logic in that, and didn't sympathize with Padfoot when he complained about Remus dwelling on the past. Hell, if _he_ was a werewolf and had come so close to killing someone, he'd be slow to forgive the person who thought up the "joke" too.

The experience had taught James to value his friends. In all reality, school was boring without them. And sharing a dorm for the rest of June had been a torture every minute. He could see that his friends were flawed; that Remus was hurting, that Peter was scared, that Sirius was confused. It had sobered him up and he didn't see the need to rely on pranks so much for fun anymore. Especially since Sirius's last "prank" had turned out to be such a horrible mistake. James still felt ashamed when he remembered the disappointed look in Professor Dumbledore's eyes . . .

"Hey, sonny, you going to stand there all night or are you going to give me the password?"

James blinked and found himself in front of the portrait to the Heads' common room. Muttering the password, memories from the past summer still flitting around in his mind, he walked into the portrait hole.

When no one jumped out at him or screeched his name from one of the armchairs by the blazing fire, James felt a bit uneasy. His reminiscing in the corridor had cost him precious time, and glancing at his watch, James saw to his utter dread, that it was 7:23.

So much for being on time.

It didn't take him long to spot Lily, her red hair giving her away immediately. What did surprise him, however, was the fact that she was resting her head on one of her books, her hand still clenching her quill, and was fast asleep.

A plate of food steamed near her head, but James didn't notice it. He only had eyes for Lily. Her face was soft and relaxed in sleep, and James imagined her waking up and smiling at him, a warm look in her eyes. Her curly hair was spread across the table, showing the back of her neck, and he had the sudden urge to bend down and kiss that delicate pale curve. Instead, he gently shook her by the shoulder in attempt to wake her up.

Murmuring faintly, Lily blinked open her sparkling eyes and looked up at James. Sitting up, she patted her hair and blushed.

"What time is it?" she croaked, her voice hoarse from sleeping.

James thought idly thought she was adorable as he checked his watch.

"Around 7:30," he answered sheepishly.

But Lily didn't seem to mind terribly that he was late.

"I'm sorry I fell asleep," she said, clearing her throat and squinting at him. His hair was wet and she could see water droplets on his dark eyelashes… "Erm…should we get started?" Lily blinked sleepily and stifled a yawn. She hadn't meant to fall asleep…she was just so _tired_ lately…

James bit his lip and sat down next to her. "If you're so tired—"

"I'm perfectly fine," Lily cut him off. "I just took a little nap."

Giving her a knowing look, James frowned. "You're tired. Go to bed."

"But it's only 7:30!" Lily exclaimed. "And we have to work on our project. We've barely gotten anything done and it's been three days!"

James shook his head. "It's okay. We'll do it tomorrow. Go to bed, really. You're worn out." And when she gave him a threatening look and started to object, he said, "I insist. I can do some alone tonight."

His unexpected offer hung in the air, and Lily considered it for a moment, before being distracted by James's discovery of his food.

"Is this _haggis_?!" he exclaimed, grabbing his plate and inspecting it closely.

"Um…yes, it is," Lily replied slowly. His offer to work alone tonight while she caught up on sleep made her feel a bit guilty for getting him food no one in their right mind would like.

"But I _love _haggis!" he declared.

Well, that explained a few things right there, didn't it?

Lily shook her head in disbelief, staring at him. Perhaps he was joking, she thought. He was, after all, extremely hungry after Quidditch practice.

"What?" James asked, starting to eat his dinner. "I do. Our cook makes the best kind, but Hogwarts's can't be that bad, can it?" He grinned at her. "Have you never had it before?"

"No," Lily replied shortly, waving away the fork-full he had thrust at her. "And I don't intend to. So if your offer still stands," she glanced at the haggis, a look of mild distaste on her face, "then I think I'll go to bed now."

She stood up and started gathering her things together, this time not disguising the powerful yawn that burst from her. She headed to her room and looked over her shoulder at James, who was eating his haggis and flipping through one of the books in his bag, occasionally noting something with his quill.

She paused by the door and admired his profile for a moment before she realized what she was doing. Admiring? _Potter?_. . . But in all honesty, he _was_ quite good looking. Despite her annoyance at him for purposely messing up his already untidy hair, he did have good hair. Those hazel eyes were fathomless and sometimes she felt uncomfortable when he stared at her in class. And after his shower he had smelled so nice and clean . . .

"Good—good night, James," she called. Was she _bushing_? What was _wrong_ with her?

He turned around in his seat, a smile on his face. "Good night, Lily."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Letting out a sound of disgust, Lily slammed her book shut, not caring about the glares she received from a group of second year Hufflepuffs studying a few tables away. Throwing her quill on the table, she slumped back in her seat.

"There's nothing here!" she groaned, rubbing her tired eyes with her hands. "I haven't found anything useful at all."

This was basically true. It was Thursday evening and they only had eleven days left before the project was due. It seemed like a lot of time from afar, but in reality time was closing in quickly and Lily could definitely feel it. With all their different after school activities there were few times when their schedules corresponded and they could meet up to work on their Transfiguration assignment. Lily had hoped to be nearly half done by now and they'd hardly gotten anywhere.

James marked the page of his book with a piece of scrap parchment, looking thoughtful. "Maybe we just—"

"—aren't looking hard enough?" Lily finished. She dropped her hands from her face and glared at him. "I _swear_ I've searched this library—from top to bottom—_twice_, thank you very much. If I'm not looking hard enough, then I don't know where else to look."

"Have you tried the Restricted Section?" James asked softly, one eyebrow raised.

Lily sighed, cursing herself. "No," she admitted reluctantly, slouching in her chair. "If I'd known researching Animagi would be so difficult, I wouldn't have let you choose this topic."

This wasn't strictly true. Lily often liked a challenge, but this time the stress was starting to get to her. It had been three days since James had made her go to bed early and worked on the project by himself, and he had found more in that one night than she had found in three days.

"_I_ choose?" James grinned. "If I remember correctly, you agreed on choosing this topic too, Miss Sleepy-Head Girl, so don't go getting your knickers in a twist." He grinned broadly at her scowl. "Besides, we can ask McGonagall for a note to get us in the Restricted Section."

Lily sighed, admitting defeat. "I guess you're right. I don't know why I didn't think of that. The main library has never failed me before." She glared at the book she had slammed closed before. "But all the books I've looked through either mention Animagi in passing, whine about how difficult it is, or hint how horrible things can happen if attempted prematurely."

"Don't forget that you have to register with the Ministry."

Lily groaned. "I _know_. They mention it every other sentence." She leaned forward, hand in chin and elbow on table. "You seem to have gotten farther than me."

James tried to scratch his head nonchalantly. He had thought things were going smashingly so far—well, apart from the fact that they'd barely found any information in the library at all. He felt a little guilty at the way Lily had attacked the project head on, scouring the library for books. He and Sirius had discovered years ago that the school library was practically worthless when learning to become Animagi.

"Yeah, I guess…" and then in response to the look she gave him, "okay, so I've found more than you." James kicked a leg of the table, wondering how he was going to get out of this one. He _knew_ Animagi had been a stupid topic—he'd just blurted it out before…what an idiot.

Lily raised an eyebrow. "Would you care to elaborate?" she asked. "I mean, I know you're supposed to be a _Transfiguration prodigy_," she rolled her eyes, "but really…" A strange look crossed her face and she suddenly looked fairly uncertain. Fidgeting with her quill, she asked in a slightly strained voice, "Do you just…I mean…"

James looked questioningly at her, confused.

Lily cleared her throat uncomfortably. "Is it because…is it because you're pureblood, that you know…" her voice trailed off and color bloomed in her cheeks, giving them a highly attractive pink glow.

James let out a strangled laugh. Merlin, did she really think that? Blood didn't ever have anything to do with _anything_, no matter what any of those stupid radicals said.

"No, of course not."

Thinking incredibly fast, he blurted out the first thing that came to his mind for an explanation. "It's just…My dad sort of, I dunno, _studied_ Animagi, I guess you'd say." James rubbed his neck, remembering. "When I was young I was a little too curious and he humored me and explained the basics." Well, it _was_ true…partially. His father _had _studied Animagi for a time, but it had been a passing fancy, a hobby: nothing serious. And he had explained the rudimental facts to James, but it wasn't as if at the time James had been exceptionally interested…and he'd only been seven…

"Why was he studying it?" Lily asked, some of her blush fading. James wished he could make her blush for a different reason.

"I—I'm not quite sure why," he answered.

"But you can't have remembered everything he said…and he wouldn't have told you anything too important…"

"Well," James started to explain, a bit guiltily, "that's true. I—I've picked some things up over the years…" Subtly changing the subject he said, "I'm sure my dad has some books we could borrow if we asked. It would be a lot faster than if we tried to order something from Flourish and Blotts."

James didn't _want_ to lie to her, but he couldn't readily explain why he had a ton of books on how to become an Animagus under his bed without giving away his secret. If he pretended to write his dad and just brought out the books from his dorm, Lily would never be the wiser.

She seemed to be thinking it over. "Well, we're not getting very far on our own. I think that's a good idea."

James smiled at her, but before he could answer, the doors to the library burst open with a clang that startled Madam Pince, the cranky old librarian, and in strode Professor McGonagall.

Her nostrils were flared and her lips were pressed into an alarmingly thin line. Her thick black cloak billowed out behind her as she strode across the floor to their table. The second year Hufflepuffs nearby shot her terrified looks before scurrying from their table to cower behind some shelves. Madam Pince stood up as if she wanted to stop Professor McGonagall from continuing, but seemed to think better of it when she saw the look on McGonagall's face. Students checking out books or those studying at tables across the room peeked out from between shelves and over books and strained their necks to get a better look at McGonagall's fury.

"Potter," she growled softly. Her eyes were blazing.

James looked innocently at the Transfiguration professor, displaying a sense of polite curiosity. Lily noticed he was gripping his quill rather tightly.

"Do you happen to know what time it is, Mr. Potter?" Professor McGonagall steamed.

Shooting a confused look at Lily, James shook his head.

"Well, that would explain why you are half an hour late for your tutoring session." Turning her steely glare at Lily, she barked, "Miss Evans, I trust you _did_ deliver the reminder I wrote him on Monday?"

"What?" Lily asked, then comprehension dawned. "Oh," she said, her eyes widening. "Yes, I did, professor." She turned to James. "Remember, I gave it to you on the Quidditch Pitch."

There was a pause as the wheels turned in his head. Then, springing suddenly out of his seat, James grabbed his bag and rifled through it, finally pulling out a slightly bent, unopened letter. Ripping it open, he scanned it quickly and looked back to his professor, biting his lip.

"I—I'm sorry," he said lamely, after struggling for words for a moment or two. The letter hung limply at his side and James felt guilty. When Lily had pushed the letter into his hands a few days ago he had pocketed it, meaning to read it after his shower and on the way to the Heads' common room. But he had been distracted when he had bumped into Mooney, and then he had forgotten about it.

"Next time I send you a reminder for a tutoring session, Mr. Potter, be so good as to actually read it. Not only do you disappoint me when you don't show up, but you also let down the students you tutor. And as Head Boy I expected more from you," McGonagall said. "Since this is the first time it's happened, I will only take ten points from Gryffindor, but do take care to organize your schedule more thoroughly." Her lips were as thin as ever and James stared at his trainers, not able to look his professor in the eye. No one, except perhaps Dumbledore, could make him feel worse than McGonagall could when he did something stupid, not even his own parents.

"Yes, professor," he said.

"I expect you to clean up here and head straight to my classroom. And I trust you will remember, in future, not to let this happen again."

"Yes, professor," James said again.

Without another word, Professor McGonagall turned on her heal and strode across the room the way she had come, her robes billowing out behind her. Before she reached the doors however, Lily stopped her.

"Wait, professor!" she called, following McGonagall to the doors of the library. Grasping her quill in one hand and a piece of parchment in the other, Lily leaned in close to whisper to her teacher, while the other occupants of the room tried to inconspicuously eavesdrop.

James sat at his table; he felt terrible. Sighing and ignoring the stares from neighboring students, he started gathering his things together. A second later Lily was back and settling once again into her chair. James threw his books in his bag. Of all the people to be with when McGonagall was really laying into him, it had to have been Lily.

"I don't really understand," Lily said finally.

James didn't look up as he replied with a mumbled, "What don't you understand?"

"McGonagall…what did she mean by 'tutoring session'?"

Sighing again, James sat down and screwed the top back on his ink bottle. "Every once in awhile I help her tutor second years, third years, you know, younger students, who are failing Transfiguration," he explained. "They can be right little buggers and slow on the uptake sometimes, but they're not that bad, the kids I tutor." He dropped his ink bottle in his bag and continued staring at the table. She probably thought he was irresponsible and stupid for forgetting to read the note and not showing up for the tutoring session. He didn't need another reason for Lily to think badly of him.

Lily stared at James as he grabbed his quill and jammed it in his bag. That note McGonagall had given her was a reminder for his next tutoring session—and not one he was receiving, but one he was _giving_. James had just sat there and told her as nonchalantly as you please that he tutored second years in Transfiguration.

She didn't know what to think.

It was so nice of him (well, she didn't know if he was being forced into it, but from what he'd said, it didn't look like it; it looked like something he _chose_ to do). He'd been so humble about it that Lily was rather taken aback. In all the time she'd known him, and as far as she knew, James Potter had never really looked out for or helped others unless it benefited himself. In the past few years, when he'd been dead set on getting her to go out with him, he'd used everything he could think of to get her to say yes, to impress her. But he had never mentioned this! So either he had started tutoring recently, or he had been doing it for awhile and had never thought to tell her, thinking it wouldn't impress her or that it wasn't that big of a deal.

"You…you tutor second years?" she asked.

The disbelief must have been apparent in her voice, for he looked up at this and stared at her. "Yeah, so?" He shrugged.

"How long have you been tutoring other students?"

"Middle of fifth year," James replied. "Why? It's not that big a deal."

Lily raised an eyebrow. "I think it's very…" she searched for the right word, "…very _noble_ of you." Looking straight across the table at him, she willed herself not to blush.

James stared back. She thought he was…noble? Lily's brilliant green eyes glowed with something he couldn't name and James suddenly felt amazingly weightless, as if he could float right out the window into the autumn sunshine. Something warm and good flowed out from his chest and spread through the rest of his body. It was rather like drinking butterbeer, he mused, grinning foolishly at her from across the table, all thoughts of things to do, places to be, and people to see completely fleeing from his mind. Only butterbeer had never felt this good, never given him this satisfaction before that made him feel like he could do anything. She was smiling back at him and James felt his heart start thumping wildly in his chest. She thought he was noble! How often did a bloke hear something like that? Her eyes were devouring him, drawing him in, and he was lost, so lost that he started to contemplate leaning across the table as his eyes fell to her lips. Lily's lips had often occupied his thoughts and even more often his dreams. They were always pink and soft-looking, and at the moment they looked incredibly kissable. She was still smiling at him and her words were still echoing in his head and James was in a daze and was slowly leaning in and—

"Mr. Potter! Miss Evans!"

James jerked around and nearly fell out of his seat, his neck burning pink and his eyes wide. Madam Pince stood to the left of their table, and James swore he could hear sniggers coming from those damn Hufflepuff second years that were still hiding.

"Mr. Potter," Madam Pince said again, this time in whisper. "I thought Professor McGonagall told you to hurry along to her classroom. She wouldn't like to see you lollygagging." At this, more sniggers sounded from behind the bookshelves.

"Yes, ma'am," James said. "I'll hurry along now."

The librarian nodded and cast Lily a strange look, then sauntered back over to her desk, glowering at students on the way who were making too much noise.

Lily stared at James as he quickly threw everything in his bag and jumped up, ready to flee the library and head to his tutoring session. There was a strange look on his face, and he was avoiding her gaze, but that wasn't what had her attention.

Was it possible? Was he _blushing?_ She'd _never_ seen James blush, ever. Not once in seven years...and even when he did it now it was barely even a change in color… Why was he blushing now? Because she had called him noble? That was hardly something to blush over…

Rather confused, she piled her books up and stuffed them in her bag, following James hurriedly out of the library. His neck was still pink and she wondered is she had ever complimented him before. Surely she had…this couldn't have been the only time.

"Will you slow down?" she asked, trying to keep up.

James didn't look at her. "Why are you following me? I'm going to my tutoring session."

"I know," she answered. "Just—James, will you _slow down_!"

He stopped and turned to look at her. "What?" he asked.

Breathing heavily through her nose, Lily clicked her tongue. "James…I…" She searched for words.

"What?" he asked again.

She shook her head. Somehow, the moment, whatever it was, had passed. "Nothing…I just…McGonagall signed a note for us to use the Restricted Section," she said. Digging through her bag, Lily pulled the parchment out that she had raced over to McGonagall with before. "So, while you're tutoring second years, I can get some books out."

"Okay," James said. The strange look that had been on his face before was gone, as if it had never been there, and his color was back to normal. In a fleeting thought Lily suddenly wished she could see him blush more often.

"Well," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, "I've got to go. McGonagall's probably been timing me." He smiled thinly.

Lily nodded and watched him turn and continue down the corridor. She kept seeing that look that had been on his face before. Was it possible that he still—well, he _did_ blush when she complimented him…Was it possible that he still fancied her? True, he hadn't asked her out all year, but he still smiled at her and hadn't seemed put out that they had to be partners for their Transfiguration assignment. They were in each other's company even more often than they had been in past years, what with Head Duties.

Surprisingly, Lily was shocked to find out that she didn't really know _what_ to feel if he still liked her. She had been in such a habit of despising him and saying no every chance he gave her that, for a long time, she hadn't even thought about what she was declining.

Did she really mind he still fancied her? Lily didn't know.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

"…and that would be, Miss Evans?"

Lily jumped, startled when she heard her name, and looked up into the face of Professor Flitwick. Wand held in the air, as if poised to deliver a spell, he was looking expectantly at her, as was the rest of the class, and Lily started to blush, dropping her eyes from her professor. She was acutely aware of James sitting next to her—and the way his knee was touching hers.

"It's…um…I mean…"

"The Fidelius Charm, professor," James said suddenly.

Lily shot a glance at him, startled. She felt his knee nudge hers under the desk, and a tingle shot up her spine. She nodded quickly in agreement.

Professor Flitwick frowned. "Yes, Mr. Potter, but I'm afraid I asked Miss Evans, not you."

"Sorry, professor," James replied, "but Lily and I were just talking about it."

"Hmmm." Professor Flitwick turned back to Lily. "Well, then, _Miss Evans_," he shot a glance at James, but Lily could tell he was secretly amused, "how is the information retrieved?"

Not looking at James, but quite aware of his stare, Lily replied, "The only way the information can be retrieved is if the Secret-Keeper chooses to reveal it; not even those who have the secret revealed to them can reveal it to others."

"Excellent," the professor said, and, shooting another glance at James, "Fifteen points to Gryffindor." He turned, continuing to talk to the rest of the class.

Lily avoided James's gaze, but she could only hold out for so long.

"What?" she finally whispered at him, jotting down what Professor Flitwick was saying.

"You could at least thank me," he said in reply, a bright twinkle in his eyes. She saw Sirius, a few seats away, craning his neck to look at them.

"Thank you for what, exactly?"

"For saving your arse back there."

She glared at him.

He let out a soft chuckle. "Oh, come on, Lily. We both know that you weren't paying attention to a word Flitwick was saying."

"I don't need you to cover for me," she whispered furiously, her brow furrowing as she scribbled something down with her quill. "Besides, I was too listening."

"No you weren't."

"Yes, I was."

"No, you weren't."

"Yes, I _was_."

Just then, class ended, and students zoomed out the door. Lily quickly stood up and piled her things in her bag, still aware of James beside her, doing the same. She didn't know what was wrong with her. Why did she seem to know his every move? Why was she constantly glancing at him out of the corner of her eye? She must be coming down with something, she decided. _Yeah,_ another part of her thought, _and it's called Potteritis._

"Lily," a voice called from the doorway.

Lily looked up to see Meryl waiting for her. She hurriedly stuffed the rest of her books in her bag and caught up to Meryl, trying very hard to forget that James and his friends were following them down the corridor. They had their N.E.W.T level Transfiguration class next. Mondays were always a triple dose of Potter: Ancient Runes, Charms, and Transfiguration; nevertheless, the day hadn't been too bad. She knew that McGonagall wasn't going to let them work on their projects in class, but Lily felt they didn't need the time all that much. The books that James' dad had sent on Saturday were full of details that none of the books in the Hogwarts' library even hinted at. The steps for becoming an Animagi were so complex that Lily had gotten a headache just reading them through the first time. It was worse than making a Polyjuice Potion: for one, you were turned into an animal, not a person, and two, it took an incredible amount of inner magic and focus to learn to do. Lily didn't envy Professor McGonagal, even if being an Animagi gave you certain benefits.

Lily sat down in her usual seat in the Transfiguration classroom, pulling her notes out and unscrewing her bottle of ink. McGonagall wasn't in the room just yet, and the class was anxious for the hour and a half to be overwith so they could eat dinner.

Just then, a crowd of rowdy boys pushed past to reach their seats in the back, and an elbow jostled Lily's arm. Letting out a gasp, Lily watched as the next series of events seemed to happen in slow motion: the ink bottle flying from her hand, the liquid gushing out from the unstopped neck, and the great smashing sound it made against the desk, smattering everyone within an armlength's distance of Lily's desk with dark ink. The group of boys howled with irritation, the girl in front of Lily, Cecily Elwell, gave a loud screech, clutching her hair, and Lily stared at her Transfiguration notes, now drenched with ink.

A boy with thick, golden colored hair pushed his way through the crowd of ink-stained boys to Lily's side. His blue and bronze tie had one drop of ink on it, but otherwise he had been spared the messiness of the accident.

"Look here!" he said loudly. "Warrington, you shoved poor Lily!"

"It wasn't me, Albani." Charles Warrington tried to wipe the ink from his face, but only emphasized the impression of having a rather bad black eye. "Evans should watch what she's doing—Now I've got ink all over me!"

"You wouldn't have if you and your Slytherin friends didn't walk like giant trolls," Lance Albani replied. He looked at Lily, a concerned light in his startling blue eyes. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Lily said. "Really." She bit her lip, still staring at her notes. Merlin, all the notes she'd taken for the huge Transfiguration assignment were gone now. All of them. So much for feeling prepared. Embarrassingly, an itchy feeling appeared behind her eyes and in the back of her throat. Lily was so busy trying not to cry that she didn't notice James coming up beside her.

"It's okay, Lily," James said. Crouching down, he picked up her ink bottle and screwed the top back on. Waving his wand, the excess of the ink on the desk and floor disappeared, but her notes were unsalvageable. He ignored Cecily Elwell, who was sniffling in the seat in front of Lily, running a hand through her ink-splattered hair, obviously trying to get his attention. "I'm sure Warrington didn't mean it."

"Didn't mean it! She's the one who bumped me!"

"If you lot hadn't been stampeding—"

"—now wait just one minute—"

"I don't think I'll be able to get this stain out—"

"I'm sure Warrington didn't mean it," Lance Albani said coldly. His eyes narrowed down at James. "Just what were _you_ doing when that ink bottle exploded, Potter?"

A surprised silence met this unexpected remark. Lily looked at Lance in surprise. What was that supposed to mean?

James stood up slowly. "Are you trying to imply something?" he asked.

Lance crossed his arms. "Well, you are a _Marauder_, after all. Isn't all this something your type usually enjoys doing?"

James crossed his own arms as well, a frown marring his brow. "Sorry. My _type_? Just what type would that be?"

Lance opened his mouth to answer, but Professor McGonagal swept into the room. She gave one heated glare around the chamber and in less than five seconds everyone had scampered to their desks except James and Lance, both of whom were still standing over Lily and her ink-drenched Transfiguration notes.

"What's all this?" McGonagall asked, peering over her spectacles at the two boys.

"Lily's ink bottle got knocked over," Lance said at once, putting a hand on Lily's shoulder. He glared at James.

"It was an accident," Lily said. "I dropped it."

McGonagall glanced at the soggy mess on Lily's desk, waved her wand, and the soiled notes disappeared.

"I trust nothing more was ruined other than those notes, Miss Evans?" the professor inquired. At Lily's nod, McGonagall put her wand away and walked back to her desk. "You may return to your seats, Mr. Potter, Mr. Albani."

The two boys left to sit down. James did not look back at Lily. When he reached his seat at the back of the room, he ignored his friends' questions and took out his books instead. Lance gave her shoulder a small squeeze and smiled at her briefly before taking his normal spot in the second row, right next to Lily.

Lily suffered through the rest of the lesson, borrowing parchment from Margaret Tuttle on her right. But her mind was not on the subject; even as her hand raced to scribble down what McGonagall said, it kept dwelling on little things…little things like the fact that all those notes she'd taken Sunday night had to be rewritten…and that the ink in Cecily Elwell's hair was getting all over the sleeves of her button-up blouse…

"Hey, Lily," a voice whispered.

Lily glanced at Lance, startled out of her reverie. He smiled and offered her a bottle of ink; her bottle of ink.

"It was on the ground," he said softly. Lily noticed he'd scooted his desk a little closer to hers. "Potter left it there."

"Thanks." She took the bottle back, noticing it was nearly empty.

"I don't know what he was thinking," Lance whispered. Lily wondered if he knew about the large ink blot on his tie. "He probably thought you'd be nicer to him if he helped clean up the mess he caused."

"What do you mean?" Lily whispered back, distracted from taking down notes.

"He obviously meant it all as a prank—or something. I always thought the Marauders were a dumb group. There are better ways to have fun than to make fun of other people."

Personally, Lily agreed with that, but was still confused. "You mean, you think _he_ made me drop the ink bottle?"

Lance shrugged. "Potter's a git. Juvenile. Irresponsible. I don't know why Dumbledore made him Head—" Lace cut himself off.

Lily looked up to see McGonagall staring at them from the blackboard. "Mr. Albani, do I have to separate you and Miss Evans, or may I get on with the lesson without any further interruptions?"

"We were just talking about Lily's ink bottle, professor," Lance explained rather lamely.

McGonagall's sharp eyes zeroed in on the ink bottle Lily was holding. Summoning it with her wand, McGonagall deposited it in a drawer in her desk. "If your conversation over Miss Evans' ink bottle is so important, feel free to stay after class and continue it, otherwise, turn to page 239 like the rest of your classmates."

Belatently, Lily realized that it had been her last ink bottle. She made a mental note to buy another during the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend. Thankfully, the lesson ended quickly, and Lily wasn't forced to borrow ink from someone else. McGonagall pursed her lips, reminded them that their projects were due in a week (how could any of them forget?) and dismissed the class.

Ignoring Lance's obvious attempts to apologize, Lily quickly packed up her things and rushed to the door. Meryl met her there, and together they set off towards the Great Hall.

"What were you and Lance whispering about when McGonagall took your ink bottle away?" Meryl asked, hoisting her bag more securely on her shoulder.

"Nothing," Lily said. She started down the stairs.

"Oh come on, Lil. Your heads were put together over _something_. Did he ask you to go to Hogsmeade with him on Saturday?"

Lily stopped walking. "What? No, of course not."

"Oh." Meryl smiled at her but didn't say anything until they were at the bottom of the staircase. "But you think he's cute, right?"

"No, I don't!"

"Admit it, Lily. You do too. You've always had a thing for blond Ravenclaws."

Lily smiled, but shook her head. "No, I haven't." They started down the next corridor.

"Denial, Lily, is the first step."

"The first step to what?"

Meryl frowned. "I'm not quite sure. But I know it's the first step to something. And I think you're right—I think it's _me_ who's always had the thing for blond Ravenclaws."

"I told you it wasn't me."

"No, you have a thing for black-haired Gryffindors."

Blushing quite brilliantly, Lily smacked Meryl on the arm, refusing to think over that comment in depth. Meryl just held her arm and laughed good-naturedly.

"Anger is the next step, Lily!" she giggled, dodging around a pair of first years so that Lily couldn't smack her again.

But thinking about James had reminded Lily of her ruined Transiguration assignment notes, and the need to retake them. So she excused herself from Meryl and headed towards the Heads' Common Room. She wasn't in the mood for dinner, anyway, Lily told herself.

No sooner had she opened one of the books they were using on their assignment (and found a spare ink bottle of James' to use) than the portrait door opened. James threw his bag on the floor and dropped into the chair across the table from her, crossing his arms angrily. Lily glanced up at him, opened her mouth to say something, and then thought better of it. His face was unreadable, but Lily could sense the bad mood hovering over him like a dark storm cloud.

Her quill scratched along, the only sound in the silence between them for some time, until:

"Do you—do you think I did it?"

Lily looked over at James. He was staring at the wood pattern on the table. Lily noticed that his tie was missing.

"Do I think you did what?" she replied.

"Do you think I made you knock that ink bottle over?"

Lily couldn't believe her ears. "Of course not!" she exclaimed, dropping her quill. "Warrington bumped my arm when he was walking past; I dropped it and it splattered everywhere. It wasn't your fault. Why would you think so?"

James shrugged. "Lance Albani seemed to think so."

"Lance Albani is a Ravenclaw smartass who is only jealous because you got Head Boy and he didn't." The words were out of her mouth before she stopped to think about them. And once she had, she realized they were true.

James looked up at her, but he didn't smile. A fierce look was in his eyes, fiery and bright, something she couldn't name, but Lily blinked and a second later the look was gone.

There was a pause, and then he asked, "Were those your notes on the project? The ones that got ruined?"

"Yeah, and some class notes. But it's alright. These books your dad sent are great—everything we need is in them. It's just a matter of finding it all again."

James nodded thoughtfully. Lily bent over her book once again, but could feel his eyes on her as she wrote. After a few moments, he grabbed a book of his own, got out his quill and parchment, and started writing. They sat there in companianable silence well into the night, working together, sharing a bottle of ink.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

"I rewrote this midsection, listen," Lily said, scanning her paper. "'Wizards do not choose their Animagus form; the form appears to choose them and reflects some aspect of the witch or wizard's inner nature and personality. In addition, those who learn to be Animagi can only assume one form. There have been no recordings by Ministry officials of any magical being attempting to assume more than one shape. Officials do not advise experiments; the side effects, stress, and magical ailments that can accompany transformations vary greatly (as stated previously). According to the law, any witch or wizard who can transform must register themselves with the Ministry of Magic's Animagi Registry Office. Specific markings are recorded for identification purposes and often have to do with a distinctive attribute of the witch or wizard in question, such as markings where spectacles would be worn, a similar scar, eye color, etc.' And then I talk about all the paperwork the Ministry gives you to fill out."

At James' nod, Lily threw her quill down with a sigh and smiled brightly over at him. "I'm done!" she exclaimed. "Completely done! My entire essay: history, mistakes, instructions, and 'importance to wizarding society'." She stretched her arms over her head and felt a great weight of responsibility slide off. "I'm so happy it's over. I never want to read another thing about Animagi again."

James grinned at her, reveling in the way her eyes lit up. "Believe me, neither do I." He leaned back over the book he was reading and pushed his glasses up with a finger. Lily smiled at the habit.

It was Friday evening, and they were sitting in the deserted library, Madam Pince nowhere to be found. Two weeks had passed since McGonagall had assigned partners, and Lily had to admit that having James Potter as a partner hadn't been the agony she'd expected. After that first mishap, he'd shown up on time for all their meetings, been willing to help, and had surprisingly known a great deal about Animagi. Lily didn't question his knowledge: it was a fascinating subject, and they needed all the help they could get.

"It was a lot easier once we had your dad's books," Lily said, lightly running a finger over the title of _Animagi: Beyond the Animal_.

She was distracted, however, from starting up a conversation when a shadow passed over the table. Looking up, Lily saw Cecily Elwell peering over James, her blond hair falling onto his shoulder.

"What are you doing in the library on a Friday night?" she asked. Lily could have inquired the same of her. "Are you done with your Transfiguration assignment?" she bubbled. "George finished ours _ages_ ago. I'm sure we'll get an E." She leaned farther over James, and Lily noticed her chest was snuggled against his shoulder. A strange prickly feeling hardened in her stomach, but Lily tried to ignore it. She felt sorry for George Rastner; he'd probably had to do the whole project himself.

"I'm sure you'll get an E too, James," Cecily went on, practically purring in his ear. "You're the smartest one in our year."

James tried to inconspicuously lean away from her, but Cecily only followed him, so that soon, if she wasn't careful, she'd end up sitting in his lap. Not that either of them would mind that, Lily thought cynically. It would have been humorous if not for that annoying prickly feeling that distracted her.

"Yes, we're done," James managed.

Cecily squinted at one of the essays on the desk. "I'm sure _I_ could never have done this. You wrote so much—you're so smart James!"

Lily let out a snort. "He didn't write it," she snapped. "I did."

There was a pause, and somehow during that time James managed to wriggle away from Cecily and stand up, throwing half a grin Lily's way. She ignored him.

"Oh." Cecily took James' seat across from Lily. She smiled pertly up at James. "What did you do your project on?"

"Animagi," Lily answered.

Cecily didn't look at her. Her eyes were locked on James, and she smiled suggestively. "Oh! Animagi sounds like such a _hard _subject! However did you _deal with it_, James?"

Lily wanted to gag.

"Er…we managed alright, I guess…" James glanced at Lily, his eyes twinkling behind his lopsided glasses.

"Managed what?" a voice interrupted. Sirius had joined them, his shirtsleeves rolled up and his long hair mussed artfully. Lily wondered why the library on a Friday night had suddenly gotten so popular. Sirius' schoolbag was nowhere in sight.

"Managed to do our project on time," Lily said promptly, starting to collect papers in a stack. "Unlike some people."

"I know!" Sirius exclaimed, shaking his head. He leaned against the table next to Cecily and clucked his tongue. "The nerve of some people!" He grinned toothily at Lily.

She frowned in response. "Yes, some people." She shoved a book in her bag.

"They did _Animagi_, Sirius, can you imagine?" Cecily said, laughing her high-pitched giggle. She flipped through one of the books until Lily snatched it from her hands and stuffed it, too, in her bag, overcoming the urge to smack Cecily over the head with it. "Too many boring Ministry dates for me—George and I did Vanishing spells. I'm sure that was way easier."

A strange expression covered Sirius' face, and his mouth opened in surprise as he took in all the books on the table. "Wait, you—you did _Animagi?_" He shot an incredulous look at James, who had also started to clean up.

"Yes," Lily answered.

"We thought it would be an interesting subject," James murmured softly, picking up a book. He didn't meet Sirius' eyes.

Cecily interjected, "I think I had an uncle once who was an Animagus, but he was unregistered."

Lily frowned at her. "It's against the law to be unregistered. You have to fill out all sorts of official documents with the Ministry."

"I know!" Cecily exclaimed, bouncing a little in her chair. "Someone found out and told the Animagi Registry Office at the Ministry. They fined him 200 galleons, can you imagine?"

Lily saw Sirius and James share a look.

"He had to pay it all himself, the family wouldn't help him. And then he got _buried_ in paperwork up to here." She motioned to her neck and then started examining her nails. "They wouldn't leave him alone after that, kept checking up on him every week. I don't think it's worth the hassle, do you? Why would anyone ever want to be an unregistered Animagus?"

There was a strained pause. Lily looked curiously at James, but he was bent over the table, apparently reading one of the books.

Sirius cleared his throat. "Well…I have to go," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. He shot a glance at James, who was still bent over his book. Lily got the feeling that James was ignoring his friend. Shifting his gaze to Cecily, Sirius grinned suddenly and held out a hand to help her up from her chair. She didn't seem miffed at all that she'd arrived, ready to flirt with James, and was now leaving, ready to flirt with Sirius. One Marauder was as good as another to her, Lily thought.

"See you in Hogsmeade tomorrow," Sirius called over his shoulder as he and Cecily walked through the library doors.

It was silent after they left.

James turned a page in the book he was looking at, the candlelight reflecting in his glasses. He didn't say anything, and Lily got the impression that his mind was on an entirely different topic than the conversation that had just occurred. Lily bit her lip and stood up, too curious to leave well enough alone.

"Sirius seemed surprised that we were doing Animagi," she said casually.

"Mmm."

Lily took a breath. "Why—I mean…" But she trailed off uncertainly. She didn't know what she was asking. Why Sirius had been surprised? Why he had shot James so many looks? Maybe she didn't want to know…Lily put the strange feeling out of her mind.

They continued stacking the books and collecting papers. Lily discovered that Cecily had dropped her quill on the ground, and wouldn't have seen it if she hadn't almost stepped on it. Letting out a sigh, Lily bent down to pick it up and put it in her bag. It was after dinner now, near curfew; they had worked a long time. Lily made a mental note to check for other students on her way to her room. She and James wouldn't get in trouble for being up past curfew: anyone who saw them would figure the Head Boy and Head Girl were busy patrolling.

When James spoke, his voice was a little hoarse, and it broke the silence so abruptly that she started.

"Lily," he said.

She looked over at him, surprised at the seriousness of his tone. He was standing up straight and staring at her with that fiery look in his eyes; the one she'd noticed from time to time; the one that unsettled her a little. Just then she was struck by how large and captivating his eyes were: they were dark and soft and Lily couldn't look away. When had he moved closer? He was standing right next to her; she could feel the heat coming from his body.

"It's a Hogsmeade weekend," he said breathlessly.

Lily nodded, wondering what his point was. She knew it was a Hogsmeade weekend; they'd planned it at the last Prefect meeting, the one he had missed because of Quidditch practice. She was going to buy some new ink…

He swallowed, seeming to prepare himself for something.

"So…so will you—do you want to go with me? To Hogsmeade, I mean."

For a moment Lily was speechless. Her mind went blank and her body froze. All she could see were his lovely eyes staring into her own, drinking her in. Turning around abruptly, Lily continued organizing papers in her bag. It had hit her like a train, his question. She hadn't been prepared for it in the least; her guard had been down. A small part of her beamed in triumph, happy that he still wanted to go out with her—hopeful that maybe this time he really meant it; but that small part was soon stomped out of existence by the rest of her.

_Go with him to Hogsmeade? _What was he thinking? Lily shook her head, trying to understand. That because McGonagall had made them partners, she'd say yes? That because they were Head Boy and Girl, she'd say yes? Was that really what was going through his mind? Lily gritted her teeth as she felt an overwhelming wave of anger wash over her. Of course he would do this! She should have known. He _was_ James Potter, after all. King of the Marauders and Quidditch Captain and Head Boy. How could she have been so stupid to think he'd changed? Why couldn't he just leave her alone? He had probably been planning this from the beginning; had probably cheered inside and laughed with his stupid friends about how to ask her out. Sirius showing up like that tonight had probably been planned. Old habits die hard and all that rot. The nerve of him! Things had been going so smoothly. They'd almost been done: only the presentation was left on Monday. They'd actually been civil to each other—the first time Lily could remember. Hell, they'd been more than civil. They'd been _pleasant_. And he had to go and ruin it with this nonsense, this immature joke he couldn't seem to let go of. Lance was right. Potter was juvenile and irresponsible and didn't deserve to be Head Boy if this was how he treated people. She'd thought he was over this. She'd thought he had grown up. She'd thought he'd finally stopped making fun of her like this. She didn't understand him at all. Tears burned the back of her throat and Lily choked them back, determined not to cry. That would just make his day, wouldn't it?

James cleared his throat.

"What?" she bit out angrily.

There was a pause.

"Are you…what's your answer?" he asked softly.

Lily blinked. Her hands shook as she gripped a book in her hands. Did he really not understand that disgusted silence she'd just thrown at him? The cold brush-off he'd received when she'd turned around? How thick was he? Did he not even recognize a "NO!" when it punched him in the nose?

"My answer," Lily said flatly.

There was no response.

She gave an exasperated snort and quickly looked up at the ceiling, suddenly struggling to breathe. "What do you think my answer is?" she choked out.

Grabbing her bag, Lily started marching from the table. She almost didn't hear him when he spoke.

"I think you might have some fun if you come with me."

She turned around sharply and strode back to him, not even aware of how her bag was painfully slamming into her side as she walked.

Her face was ablaze. "The answer is 'No', Potter. How many times do I have to say it for it to get through your thick skull?"

James' next question surprised her. "Why not go with me?" he asked. His eyes were hard.

"Why not go with you?!" Lily's voice shook with anger. She was too distracted to notice that he hadn't grinned and bragged about all the Slytherins he'd hexed. "Merlin! Maybe because I want you to leave me alone. Maybe because you're a mean, egotistical, bully. Maybe because I would rather go out with the Bloody Baron that with you." Lily willed the tears in her eyes to disappear. She'd thought this was over! She'd thought they'd gotten past this. "Maybe, because we're finally getting along perfectly well for once, but as soon as things go smoothly you have to go and bring up that childish, immature crap that you always do. What do I have to do to make you stop? I've never once said yes, and I never will."

Lily was breathing hard from her long rant, but was drawing breath to say more when James interrupted her.

"I'm sorry that's the way you see me," he said coldly, his tone biting. His face was dark with emotion and his eyes flashed dangerously from behind his glasses. "There must obviously be something wrong with your vision because that's not who I am or ever was."

"Not who you were?" Lily cried. She was too hysterical to notice that she'd dropped her bag, and that they were standing within a foot of each other. Face to face. "I seem to remember a lot of times when you bullied other kids and hexed people for no good reason!"

"That's in the past, Lily!" he answered loudly. "I—I'm not like that anymore." He looked shamefaced. "I was once, but I'm not now."

"I don't see a difference," Lily cut.

He inhaled sharply and she saw the pain on his face with primitive satisfaction.

James' eyes ran over her face, as if trying to memorize her. "I'm sorry you don't like me, Lily," he said, a pang of sorrow in his voice, "but I can't help that I like you as much as I do. I ask you out because I want to—because I want you to say _yes_. But maybe that is immature of me." He took a step back. "Maybe I can't see what's right in front of me: that maybe you're not who I thought you were."

He picked up his bag and paused a moment. Lily couldn't think of anything to say. Her voice didn't seem to be working.

"A guy can only be refused so many times." He walked around her, heading for the library doors. "If I see the Bloody Baron, I'll pass on your compliments."

Lily didn't know how long she stood there. It might have been a few seconds, or it might have been half an hour. All she knew was that she was hurt. She felt bruised, like someone had ripped her open and stomped on her insides and then sown her up again. Her throat was scratchy from unshed tears, and her head pounded with a vicious headache. He had always affected her this way. Almost every single time he did this, she felt like crap afterward. Why couldn't he just stop?

Dazed, Lily picked up her bag and stumbled through the dark, deserted library, hoping fervently that James wasn't waiting in the Heads' Common Room to yell at her again. Random thoughts and echoes of their row reverberated inside her head, tangling themselves into an inconceivable mess. Was he going to ask again? Why had he waited nearly two months to begin with? Why did he make her feel this way? It ran through her mind that the conversation had been unlike any of the others she'd ever had with James on the subject. He hadn't been smarmy or grinning or menacing, like in the past. Was it even remotely possible that he'd been…sincere?

Lily shook her head at the thought, only increasing her headache. She almost snorted. She _knew_ James thought it was all just a great laugh, she _knew_ he'd never taken it seriously over the years. He'd always laughed, always teased, always badgered her until she exploded. What about him would ever have induced her to say yes? He pranked unsuspecting students, bullied Slytherins, gloated over his talent on the Quidditch field, and never talked to her except to make some rude pick up line. Why should she think he'd changed? Because he'd been nice for two weeks? Anyone could act.

"_I'm not like that anymore,"_ she remembered. _"I was once, but I'm not now."_

Was that true? Lily didn't know what to think, what to feel, what to say to him the next time they met. It was all too confusing; she felt like a fragile butterfly caught up in a huge whirlwind, unable to move or escape. James had been so nice over the last two weeks. He'd thought up their topic, gotten those books from his dad, stayed up late with her to work. Why would he have brought up the dreaded Hogsmeade line if he hadn't meant it this time?...Did she want him to mean it?

It was all too confusing to think about.

Almost tripping over the foot of a suit of armor at the thought, Lily didn't hear the voice at first. She was too busy thinking and walking at the same time.

"Lily! Hey, Lily!"

A hand grasped her arm and Lily swung about, ready to smack him with her bulging bag, when she stopped suddenly, realizing it wasn't Potter at all.

It was Lance Albani.

"You okay?" he asked. Lily stared at his Prefect's badge. She remembered that James had never been a Prefect. But he was Head Boy. Another thing that had been handed to him free of charge. Dumbledore must be mad.

"Sorry, thought you were someone else," she mumbled, starting to walk again. She hoped he would leave her alone.

But that hope wasn't to be. Lance caught up with her easily.

"I'm patrolling," he said. "Cassman and I split up, figured we'd get done faster. Friday nights're always the worst—not that it's your fault. If someone has to do it, it may as well be me. But it's a Hogsmeade weekend and all, so that kind of makes up for it. I was planning to…"

Lily stopped listening, too preoccupied with her thoughts to pay attention to Lance's ramblings about how much fun Hogsmeade was.

Hogsmeade. James had asked her to go with him to Hogsmeade. _"I think you might have some fun if you come with me," _he'd said. Fun! Fun with Potter!? Lily wondered if there was such a thing. He seemed to have fun with his friends all the time, they were always laughing about something in the backs of classrooms…sometimes Lily envied them having such a closely knit group…

But Hogsmeade. Hogsmeade with James Potter. A date with James Potter in Hogsmeade. It was a good thing she'd turned him down, Lily told herself. He'd probably meant it as a joke, like always. He probably would keep trying now that he'd started, just like all the years before; following her down the corridors, sending her a hundred valentines, bribing her with homework help…as if she'd ever needed his help…

"…and I was wondering, well…"

…Yes, he'd definitely meant it as a joke. It had to be. Definitely. James Potter was never serious. But Lily remembered that fiery look that had been in his eyes, the one that made her heart beat faster and her mouth go dry…

"…sure we'll have fun. And then we…"

…James said he'd grown up, but he hadn't if he kept on with this stupid game…

"…are really great this time of year…"

…He shouldn't have said anything. He really should have just kept his mouth closed and they could have continued being pleasantly civil to each other…civilly pleasant…

"…so what do you say, Lily?"

Lily had decided that it was all Professor McGonagall's fault, because she'd been the one who'd assigned them to work together on her stupid Transfiguration assignment in the first place (and maybe Dumbledore too, because he'd made them Head Boy and Girl together), when she realized not only were she and Lance standing in front of the portrait hole that lead to the Heads' Common Room, but also that he was standing, waiting patiently for something, his eyebrows raised in question.

For an answer.

Oh, Merlin. What had he asked?

"Sure, fine." Lily nodded half-heartedly.

Lance's face split into a huge grin, and his eyes sparkled brightly. Lily could hardly tell they were blue in the darkness.

"Great, great," he was saying breathlessly.

He squeezed her hand. Since when had he been holding her hand?

"Great," he repeated. "So, I'll see you in Hogsmeade, then? We can meet at the Three Broomsticks—or in the Great Hall before we leave, if you like."

And then, without waiting for an answer, he kissed Lily's cheek and sped away, disappearing down the dark corridor.

Lily stood frozen. She'd thought her night couldn't get any worse. But apparently it could.

And had.

Her mind tried to understand. Had she actually just agreed to go on a date with Lance Albani? The golden haired Ravenclaw ladies' man that was jealous of James for getting Head Boy?

Potter! Sweet Merlin! Lily groaned the password to the portrait and lurched into the Heads' Common Room definitely feeling ill. Quickly glancing around to make sure she was alone, Lily dropped her bag and toppled onto a couch, wishing she would wake up from this nightmare.

Why hadn't she been paying attention to what Lance said as they walked? Now she was stuck going on a date with him. She couldn't just go up to him and say, "Sorry Lance, but I can't go with you to Hogsmeade because I wasn't listening when you asked, so I didn't know that I was saying yes when I said 'yes,' because I was thinking about James Potter—a boy you despise—and the fact that he asked me out only perhaps, you know, ten minutes before you asked me, and that he's stupid and immature like you said, and that McGonagall is crazy and so I can't go with you to Hogsmeade pleaseforgiveme"? You couldn't say that to a boy.

So she was stuck. Going on a date. With Lance Albani. To Hogsmeade.

After turning down Potter for what, the four-hundredth time?

Merlin, what would James think? That she was getting back at him? She certainly wasn't. That she preferred Lance Albani to him? She wasn't sure she did. And why did she care about James' reaction, anyway? He'd asked and she'd refused. What more could there be? What was she waiting for? Why was this so confusing? Why couldn't she feel like she had half an hour ago: happy to be finished with her project, excited for the weekend? Why did this have to happen?

Sniffling, Lily looked at James' door. It was open; he wasn't there. He hadn't come back to the common room. She felt something inside her burst, and the tears that had been bottled up for so long rushed out. She couldn't control the sobs that shook her frame; her throat went raw with emotion. Confusion and unhappiness welled up within her. She didn't know why she cried, she didn't know where this grief came from.

After a long while, Lily fell asleep on the couch, too tired and too exhausted to move.

When she woke in the middle of the night, a blanket had been draped over her, and James' door was closed.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Okay. I know I haven't updated in FOREVER. Believe me, I know. I'm sorry. I have the usual excuses: school, senior year, new job, starting college, blahblahblah—in short, life. But the end is actually (surprisingly) in sight. I'm almost done with the next chapter. There might be a short epilogue. The end. BUT updating this particular chapter so late isn't really _my_ fault. I submitted it to Checkmated dot com in early friggin June and I _still_ don't have a beta. I was going to wait for them to edit it and suggest ideas to me, but whatever, I'm sick of waiting! I just want this to be done and have the satisfaction of actually having a completed multi-chapter fic. So you great people at fanfiction dot net get to read this first. Yea! I hope you enjoy it. I know I like it. Please review. Don't just add to your favorites or alert list. Reviews make me happy.

Here's a recap, since I haven't update in FOREVER: Lily and James are assigned to be partners for a Transfiguration assignment. James likes Lily. Lily does not like James. Sirius breaks into the Head Common Room. Lily and James choose Animagi as their topic. Lance does not like James. Lily starts to like James. Cecily likes to flirt. James asks Lily out, she says no and they have a colossal argument. Lance asks Lily out and, being preoccupied with her argument with James, Lily accepts Lance without meaning to. And now, back to the story . . .

Chapter Nine

Lily honestly didn't know how she'd gotten where she was.

Presently she sat in the Three Broomsticks, clutching her butterbeer like a life preserver and trying to ignore the way Lance had his arm wrapped around her shoulders.

It had all been a mistake, agreeing to go out with Lance to Hogsmeade. She hadn't meant to say yes—she'd been distracted at the time, too busy thinking about a certain _other_ boy's question . . . and her response . . .

She tried not to think about it now, before another mishap occurred. If she did think about it, who knew what she'd end up saying yes to next.

Instead, Lily tried to focus on the happenings in the Three Broomsticks. True, the festive atmosphere was invigorating: the pub was filled with students drinking and laughing, telling stories by the fire, trading Chocolate Frog cards at a table in the corner, boys chatting up girls by the bar. Halloween was tomorrow and everyone swapped rumors about what food would be served at the feast and what entertainment Dumbledore had booked this year. The excitement was palpable, but all Lily was aware of was how uncomfortably close Lance was sitting next to her, and how she'd rather have skipped all this and spent the day in bed.

What had possessed her to accept Lance's invitation? It was undeniable that he was cute—his golden curls and charming smile were said to have the ability to melt the heart of any girl. It wasn't like he was stupid, either. Lance was at the top of the class, in Ravenclaw, and, Lily had to admit, understood Arithmancy better than she ever hoped to. And it wasn't even that she didn't like him—he was nice in class and efficient in his Prefect duties—it wasn't _that_. It was just, he seemed to think this was a real date; and truthfully, Lily hadn't attempted to correct his misconception.

And given the choice, Lily still would have said no to this date.

Alright, she supposed that she'd _had_ a choice after all—it wasn't like Lance had threatened her into going—but she'd been distracted. Distracted by a certain black-haired, bespeckled Gryffindor by the name of James Potter.

And it wasn't even James' fault, really. He hadn't even been there. She'd just been too distracted by their argument to bother paying any attention to Lance; so when she realized he'd asked a question, she'd said "Sure, fine" like an idiot.

And that was how she'd ended up on this date.

Which wasn't proving to be much fun.

Unbidden, James' words seemed to echo in her ears: _I think you might have some fun if you come with me. _Would she? Lily wondered. Would she have more fun on a date with James?

Shaking her head, Lily took a sip of her butterbeer. What a stupid question. Going a date with James would be . . . well, different from this, anyway . . . probably worse . . .

Just then, a group entered the room, bringing with them a gust of chill air and a bout of rancorous laughter. Lily glimpsed Sirius and Peter accompanied by two Hufflepuff girls, all struggling out of an assortment of cloaks and scarves near the door. Though she scanned the crowd, she found no trace of a different Marauder.

Lily didn't know if she was relieved or disappointed.

Seeing his friends recalled James to her mind—and their conversation of the night before. No matter how Lily tried to shove it from her thoughts, she couldn't stop thinking about it.

"_It's a Hogsmeade weekend," _he'd said. Breathlessly. As if he waited with baited breath for her answer. As if he'd really wanted her to say yes.

Words reverberated around in her head._ . . . thick skull . . . childish immature crap . . . something wrong with your vision . . . _

James. He had asked her to Hogsmeade and she'd turned him down. Ruthlessly. She remembered the fiery look in his eyes right before he'd uttered the damned sentence, the look that sent shivers—pleasant shivers?—down her spine and made her unable to look away. The way his gaze had roved over her face, as if to memorize her. The closed off look he'd given her as he left.

"_I'm not like that anymore! I was once, but I'm not now."_

"_I don't see a difference."_

Merlin, had she actually said that? She'd been wrong; there was a difference. The past two weeks had proved that.

Lily sighed morosely. Oh, why had this happened? Why had James opened his mouth and asked her in the first place? Why couldn't things just have stayed the way they were? The Transfiguration assignment was due Monday; she and James were actually getting along, something she'd never dreamed could be possible; they laughed, planned prefect meetings, studied together . . . they even shared ink when doing homework. James had been helpful and funny and clever, he'd gotten those books from his dad, he'd put up with her stabbing him with a quill . . . Lily couldn't imagine either of them acting the same in earlier years, even the last one.

What had possessed him to ruin it all by asking her out?

Did he truly want something more? Something better?

Maybe . . . maybe she'd been wrong . . . maybe she shouldn't have yelled at him. No, she shouldn't have yelled at him, she should have calmly declined . . . or asked him why he wanted to go out with her . . . or let him convince her. Lily had a feeling James would be good at convincing her, if she let him. Maybe, just maybe, she should have said yes—yes to James—just to see what would happen. After all, it couldn't hurt, could it? . . . Yes . . . A date with James . . . It was insane, she knew it was—_yes to James Potter!_—no doubt about it, completely unthinkable . . . but all the same . . . maybe . . .

Lily was brought abruptly back to the present by the pressure of Lance's hand on hers. She looked up at him, trying not to think that it could have been James sitting there next to her, reaching out to hold her hand, if she'd said yes.

What a thought.

"I hope you don't mind that we're not at Madame Puddifoot's," Lance said.

Lily blinked. "Oh. No, this is fine. I've never even been there before." Trying to inconspicuously disengage her hand from his, Lily reached for her butterbeer bottle.

"Really?" Lance asked. "Not even on a date with someone? I thought all girls liked that place."

Lily shrugged, gulping her drink. She tried to ignore the giggles coming from the table in the corner next to theirs, giggles that sounded suspiciously like Cecily Elwell's. She tried very hard not to think about which boy was wrapped around her in the shadows, making her giggle so shrilly.

Lily crossed her legs, and as she did so, something brushed against her calf under the table. Thinking she'd accidentally nudged Lance, Lily moved her legs to the side.

"Can't wait for the first Quidditch match," Lance said good-naturedly. "Next weekend, you know. Don't really play myself: all that swerving and diving makes me nauseous to tell you the truth." He winked at her, as if that would seal her lips from mentioning his weakness to anyone. "But watching . . . ah I love a good match. Who doesn't? And it's Ravenclaw vs. Slytherin. They've got a new keeper and beaters this year. I've never seen Edwing play, but Cassman has—he's on the team, you know, Chaser—and he says Edwing only stops half the goals or less. But then, Cassman's a bit full of himself; probably counts all the goals he pitches as good, even if they're caught, just to improve his numbers, the tosser . . ."

As Lance babbled about Quidditch (something Lily was only interested in while she watched it), Lily glanced about the room, trying not to focus too obviously on the table that the Marauders occupied.

Just as she had determined that James hadn't joined them yet, she was distracted. The arm that Lance had draped across her shoulders before was now slung around her waist, and his hand was brushing up and down her side, every once in a while actually lingering on her thigh. Lily tried to shift away, but it was rather impossible while sitting next him. Lance kept on blabbing, apparently pretending he wasn't nearly feeling her up in plain view of everyone in the pub. Lily didn't quite know what to do, short of telling him to stop.

"Um, I'm out of butterbeer," she blurted quickly, leaning forward and trying to nonchalantly disengage his arm from her waist She desperately hoped he wouldn't look at her butterbeer bottle, which was only half empty.

"Then I'll go get some more butterbeer, shall I?" Lance asked, turning towards her, his face a little too close to hers.

Lily nodded weakly and Lance bounded up and headed to the bar. Sighing sullenly, Lily looked around the room, trying to cheer herself up with the others' festivity, but all the laughter only proved to make her feel worse.

"Lily!" a voice called. Seconds later Meryl was sitting next to Lily, smiling broadly.

"I didn't know you were coming to Hogsmeade," she said, grabbing Lily's butterbeer and taking a swig.

"Well, I did," Lily said. "Who're you with?"

"Oh, Florence and Susan, you know . . ." She leaned over the side of the booth and waggled her fingers at her companions, Florence Fortescue and Susan Yewer; both girls paused in their chitchat to wave back. "Why are you sitting drinking butterbeer by yourself?" Meryl asked, taking another swig out of Lily's bottle. She repositioned herself in her seat, crossing a leg beneath her bum and sitting up higher. "I know you'd rather have tea."

"I'm not alone," Lily said. "I'm on a date."

Meryl stopped fidgeting and stared at her. "What? With who?"

Lily grabbed a handful of Bertie Botts' Every Flavor Beans that were sitting in a bowl on the table, avoiding Meryl's gaze. "Lance Albani," she said, popping some of the candy into her mouth.

"You're on a date with Lance?" Meryl cried. "Where is he?" She looked around. "I thought you said he hadn't asked you!"

"Well, he did, last night. And he's off to get drinks."

"And you didn't tell me?!"

"Sorry, it was right before curfew," Lily said, around the beans in her mouth.

"So?" Meryl was exasperated. "It's not like we've never sneaked out before. Tell me everything: where you were, how he asked." She grinned, leaned in, and whispered, "Has he kissed you, yet?"

"No!" Lily said vehemently. "He found me in the hall before curfew and walked me to the Head Common Room and asked me outside the entrance." Her eyes finally met Meryl's. "I didn't exactly intend on saying yes," she said softly. "I was thinking about something else and he asked and I sort of agreed without thinking."

Meryl leaned back, a look of disbelief on her face. "A cute Ravenclaw walks you to your room late at night and asks you out and you _accidentally_ say yes?" She shook her head. "What could you possibly have been thinking about?"

Lily bit her lip, uncertain whether to tell her friend. But she knew she had to tell someone.

"James and I were in the library before that, last night," she said slowly, preparing herself for Meryl's reaction. "And . . . _he_ asked me . . . to go with him. To Hogsmeade again."

"You mean for today's trip?"

Lily nodded.

Meryl gave her a knowing look. "Let me guess, you said no."

Lily nodded again, but she didn't feel any better for telling Meryl, or for thinking about what had happened in the library again.

"Yeah," she said. "I sort of . . . yelled at him." Catching Meryl's wide-eyed look, Lily went on. "He took me by surprise," she rationalized. "He hadn't asked in so long . . . I thought he'd given up. And we had been getting on so well, working on the project together . . ." Lily bit her lip. "He—he wasn't very nice about me rejecting him again."

"Well, can you blame him, Lily?" Meryl said. "Do you think that because you were finally getting along together he probably just up and figured, 'What the hell, might as well ask her again.'?" She looked angry. "He likes you, Lily. How many times does he have to ask for you to believe him? Shit, the whole freaking school knows it but you."

"Why are you defending him?" Lily asked hotly, surprised that Meryl would be so adamant, though she knew deep down that she'd already come to the same conclusion that her friend had. "So I said no, so what? He'll get over it." Even to herself she didn't sound very convincing.

"Has it occurred to you that maybe he won't?" Meryl asked. "Maybe he's given up now. Maybe he wants nothing to do with you anymore. Maybe you've ruined your chances—"

"My chances?!" Lily cried. "You're acting like I wanted him to ask me—like I'd say yes—"

"Oh, come on, Lily. Like you didn't feel the tiniest bit glad when he asked you again last night? Like you didn't enjoy it?" Meryl looked at her friend incredulously, frustration evident on her face. "I don't understand how you can raise his hopes all the time and then crush them without looking back whenever you say no."

"I don't crush anything!" Lily denied. "Why are you taking his side? I'm the one he never leaves alone, not the other way around—"

"Why are you so determined to play the victim?" Meryl asked. "Lily, you probably deserved whatever he said to you last night. If I were him I'd have said it, too. How many times has he asked you out and you've said no? You probably can't even count them all. I know it might have started out as a prank or a game or teasing or whatever, but do you honestly think James Potter would pursue you like he has if he didn't really care—" Meryl broke off, snapping her mouth shut in frustration.

Lily slumped miserably, admitting defeat.

"You don't have to keep going," she said, putting her elbows on the table and propping her head in her hands. "I feel like enough of a bitch as it is." Lily sighed. "I know I'm mean," she admitted quietly. "I—I know he likes me. But last night—" she lifted her head, trying to blink away the tears that suddenly burned in her eyes. "We'd just been getting on so well. We were friends. And I was—surprised." She met Meryl's gaze. "And then Lance showed up and I wasn't even listening to what he was saying, and . . ." She sighed, wiping her nose. "I'm not having fun on this date," Lily said flatly, "so you can at least be glad to know I'm being punished."

The two girls sat for a time in silence.

"Does Lance know James asked you, too?" Meryl finally asked.

"No," Lily replied. "And I don't really want him knowing. He hates James enough as it is."

Meryl nodded, taking a sip of butterbeer. "And you're really not having a good time?"

Lily shrugged, nodding. "He's, well, he's a bit of a berk. And he keeps sitting too close to me."

"Hmmm. Well, you can always back out of it and disappear up the street with me and the girls," Meryl offered, smiling at her friend.

Lily shook her head, knowing all was forgiven. She and Meryl did this occasionally, argued over when the other was being stubborn and foolish—it just had never been about something so, well, important.

"Nah, I said yes. And it's only for a few more hours. What are you guys planning to do today, anyway?"

"Oh, go to Honeydukes. Check if they've got anything new at Gladrags; Susan's got to buy some dress robes. And maybe follow George Rastner around." Meryl grinned. "Florence fancies him."

"Who does Florence fancy?" Lance asked, appearing at the table. He slid into the opposite bench of the booth, across Lily.

"Oh, no one," Meryl said, blushing.

"Here's another butterbeer," Lance said, passing around the bottles he'd acquired. "Sorry I took so long. The line at the bar was long, and I stopped to play a round of gobstones with some mates."

Lily felt Meryl titter beside her but she refused to make any motion that could be interpreted by her friend as mirth. Yes, it was true. She was on a date with a boy who liked playing gobstones. And he thought it was okay to abandon his date for twenty minutes to play a round with his mates.

Why had she ever said yes?

Meryl stayed a bit longer as they started discussing the Halloween feast. After Lance spouted off a list of what foods he hoped would be offered, Lily brought up the entertainment rumors.

"Oh, I hope they just play the WWN," Meryl said. "Live bands are so boring. Especially anything they ever pick for school."

"What!" Lance exclaimed, setting down his butterbeer with a loud clink. "You need to get your ears checked. Live bands are way better than the wireless."

"To some, maybe," Meryl conceded, politely. "But I always found—"

"And anyway," Lance interrupted, "the WWN only ever plays old stuff and gag-me love songs by Celestina Warbeck. Crap my mum listens to."

"I happen to like Celestina Warbeck," Meryl said stiffly. "And the WWN plays more than—"

"Well, to each his own, I say," Lance said, grinning broadly at Lily.

During this exchange, as Lily grew more and more indignant on behalf of her friend and more and more impatient with her date, who was proving to be extremely rude and not only a berk but a prat as well, Lily was aware of something that kept brushing her leg under the table. At first she thought she'd accidently kicked Meryl, then that a supporting bar of the table ran along beneath it. It was after she'd recrossed and repositioned her legs for the sixth time that Lily realized Lance was attempting to play footsie with her.

Lily abruptly stood up, startling both of her companions. At their inquiring looks she said, "Sorry, gotta use the loo," and sped from the table.

Returning from the bathroom a few minutes later, where she'd spent most of the time staring in the mirror and reassuring herself she'd only have to spend a few more hours in Lance's company, Lily found Lance waiting for her alone, finishing off his bottle of butterbeer.

"Meryl said she had to split," he said simply.

Lily nodded understandingly. If she'd been Meryl, she would have left, too. "Um, well, I need to go to Scrivenshaft's anyway," she said, heading towards the door.

Lily didn't know how he'd managed it, but Lance had somehow ended up capturing her hand as they walked. She wondered if James would be this touchy-feely if she'd said yes to him. She suddenly wished that the quill and ink shop was closer to the Three Broomsticks. Walking down the lane of Hogsmeade holding Lance Albani's hand was not something she'd anticipated—or wanted in the least.

However, sucking it up and reminding herself firmly that she was the one who'd gotten herself into this mess and probably deserved the misery after what she'd put James through for so long, Lily didn't attempt to extract her hand from Lance's clammy grip, though she certainly thought about it.

Soon they were within sight of the shop and Lily widened her strides, the sooner to have her hand back to herself.

Lance, who had been relatively quiet for the walk seemed to finally realize where they were headed.

"Scrivenshaft's?" he asked. "What do you need there?"

What a stupid question, Lily thought as they reached the door. He obviously knew the answer.

Scrivenshaft's was a quaint little shop stocked from floor to ceiling with every sort of quill, parchment, and ink imaginable. There were quills from seemingly every bird—from owl, hawk, and goose to swan, flamingo, and ostrich. There was even a few alarmingly large peacock feathers arranged artfully in one corner; one was the size of Lily's leg—it would have been murder to write with. Boxes and boxes of parchment were on display as well, lining the far wall and giving the shop the same quiet, pleasantly musty smell that is often found in old book shops.

Lily headed directly to the ink section, determined to grab the first ink bottle she came across, the sooner to be out of there and on her way back to the school.

"What do you need?" Lance asked again, following her inside and stopping next to her shoulder, again a little too close for comfort. Almost breathing down her neck. No doubt he thought it showed affection for her or gave him excuses to brush up against her (which he kept doing as he shifted to get a better look at a quill on display above her head), but Lily just felt annoyed. Was personal space too much to ask for?

"Some ink," Lily said, seizing a bottle and heading to the cashier, peeved that she had to wait in the queue—a witch with her three small children was talking to the clerk and apparently buying half the shop, if all the rolls of parchment, quills, and bottles of ink on the counter were anything to go by.

"Oh, yeah. Potter smashed your last one."

Lily frowned. "He didn't. I dropped it," she replied, watching as the mother hassled over prices with the clerk and didn't notice that one of her children was happily unscrewing a bottle of ink.

Lance let out a snort. "Lily." He gave her a condescending smile. "You don't have to say that for my benefit. I know he did it. It's just what he does—pulling pranks on unsuspecting people. I bet you had to spend all night rewriting those notes that got ruined."

"You can't be sure it was him," Lily replied. She remembered sharing a bottle of ink with James, writing quietly and companionably into the night. "The classroom was full and rowdy."

"_Someone_ bumped you."

"It was an accident," Lily insisted.

"I guess we'll never know." Lance slipped his arm around her waist and pressed her into his side. "He sure was quick to offer his help when you spilled it, though."

Lily had to bite her tongue not to retort that Lance had also been very quick to offer his help when she'd spilled her ink in Transfiguration.

"I can't imagine having Potter for a partner for the Transfiguration assignment," Lance went on. He shook his head in sorrow at her imagined predicament. "He's so thick he probably couldn't even—"

"Actually James is a bit of a prodigy when it comes to Transfiguration," Lily replied.

Lance waved his hand as if pushing the comment aside. "I know everyone says that, but really, who's ever seen anything brilliant? I mean, he does get top marks, but that's just because he cheats off his friends."

Lily was stunned by how obnoxious he was being. "I happen to know that James got O's in every subject but History of Magic on his O.W.L.s." she said.

Lance shrugged. "I still don't know how you survived being his partner," he said. "I wouldn't have been able to stand him procrastinating and making me do all the work. Or even the sight of his face every time we'd have to meet . . ."

Lily didn't bother to try again and correct his deep-rooted misconception that James was a bad partner—perhaps she'd felt the same at the beginning of the assignment, but James had proven just how insightful and hard working he could be as the due date approached.

"And I thought I had it bad . . ."

Lily looked quickly at Lance, her brow furrowing. "I thought you were partners with Susan Yewer."

Lance nodded, rolling his eyes. "Yeah. Well, suffice it to say that Yewer wasn't exactly what I'd had in mind . . ."

Pulling away from him slightly, Lily turned to face him, ignoring how one of the children at the cashier had stabbed himself with a quill and was screaming quite loudly, another was happily sucking on a feather quill, and the last one was busy finger-painting his mother's robes with ink. "What's wrong with Susan?"

"Nothing," Lance said. He shrugged. "Just that, you know, she's not the brightest fairylight in the lantern. I don't know how she got the grades to get into NEWT level Transfiguration—or why I was partnered with her."

"Susan's smart," Lily protested. "She's got the top grade in Muggle Studies—"

"Well, Muggle Studies is hardly Transfiguration, is it?" Lance scoffed. "Muggles are easy enough, but the complexities of the top forms of magic like Transfiguration will never be mastered by Muggleborns. 'Specially those who'd rather take the time to study their own culture than the Magical world."

Lily stepped up to the cashier in a daze, hardly seeing the witch and her children leave the shop, or the clerk ring up her bottle of ink.

"I'm Muggleborn," she said, ignoring the inquiring look the clerk gave her.

"Oh, I know," Lance said quickly. "But you're not like Yewer. You know how our world works. You don't—"

"Susan is my friend," Lily bit out, snatching her ink bottle and heading to the door.

Lance quickly caught up and grabbed her hand again. Lily seriously thought about shaking him off.

"I'm sure she's great, really. But she's nothing like you, you've got to admit. And she and I just don't get along. She had some daft idea about the assignment, too. I mean, I basically had to do it all myself. She didn't know what she was doing . . ."

Lily really wished Lance would shut up. She couldn't believe she'd said yes to him. She couldn't believe she'd sat next to him in Transfiguration for four years and not known his views on Muggleborns. She couldn't believe he was insulting her friend, Susan Yewer, fellow Gryffindor without realizing what an ass he was being.

This was the worst date she'd ever been on.

And he was _still_ going! Lance didn't even realize that anything was wrong.

". . . so I wrote it instead." He seemed to be finishing up describing what he and Susan (or, basically, _he_ by himself) had done for the Transfiguration assignment. "So, what did you and Potter pick?" Lance let out a chuckle. "I hope you didn't do Vanishing spells like Cecily and Rastner. I doubt McGonagall would view that as worthy of an O. Please tell me you didn't do Vanishing spells, Lily, please."

Lance seemed to think he was being charming and funny and flirty. Lily was in no way charmed or laughing or impressed.

"Actually we did Animagi," she said.

Lance let out a laugh, obviously thinking she was joking.

Lily stopped walking and stared at him.

"_Animagi!_" he let out, guffawing. "No, seriously, what did you do? I'm sure Prodigy Potter came up with something better than that! Really, tell me, what did you do?"

"We did Animagi," Lily repeated coldly.

It took a second for Lance to accept that she was being entirely serious. The grin dropped from his handsome face and his mouth dropped open in disbelief. Lily rather thought he looked like a fish. Disgusted, she started walking on the path that led from the village back to Hogwarts, too pent up with energy to ride a carriage back. She'd entered a wood, and was just congratulating herself on leaving Lance behind (which had to be the smartest thing she'd done all day) when she heard a voice calling her name.

"Lily! Lily! Wait up!"

Groaning, Lily continued walking, hoping he'd leave her alone.

"Hey," Lance panted, catching up to her. "Didn't you hear me calling?"

Lily only shrugged.

"Sorry—hey, sorry I laughed," Lance said, obviously and arrogantly assuming forgiveness would be granted immediately. "I didn't think you were serious. I mean, we learned about Animagi in third year."

"Yeah, well, it's a lot more complicated than it sounds," Lily said shortly, still refusing to look at him.

"Yeah . . ." Lily could tell Lance didn't believe her. "Sorry Potter made you do such a lousy subject. It's pretty stupid of him to pick something so easy—it's so obvious. He's such an prat." He sighed in sympathy.

"Actually, we decided on the topic together," Lily said through gritted teeth.

Lance looked at her in disbelief. "Oh, come on now, Lily. You don't have to lie to me. Potter's always taken the easy, immature road. I'm actually not that surprised he made you do Animagi. It's just like him—pick something that's really easy and suck up to McGonagall at the same time." Lance's face took on a sneer. "Really, I don't know what anyone sees in him. He's a poncey arsehole who lets others do the work for him and lords his power over everyone so he can go hang out with his stupid friends. I don't know why Dumbledore ever picked him to be Head Boy; he doesn't have any redeeming personality traits or top marks. He's obviously not suited to it—"

"What, and you think you are?" Lily interrupted. She was fuming, both angry at Lance for saying such despicable things about James and also at herself for thinking basically the same thing not that long ago.

Lance looked surprised at being cut off—and at what she'd said.

"Well, yeah," he responded, as though the answer was obvious. "I'd be a much better Head Boy than Potter. He doesn't know anything about planning events or controlling prefect meetings or leading students. All he does is sit in the back of the classroom and mess around with his _Marauders._" The name of the group seemed to leave a funny taste in his mouth, if the look on Lance's face was anything to go by. "He wasn't even a prefect before he was named Head Boy. I still think it's a prank he pulled before school started."

Lily stared at him, dumbfounded. "You don't think Dumbledore or McGonagall or even Slughorn would have corrected that by now?"

Lance shrugged. "They probably thought it was funny. Dumbledore likes that cheeky bit of humor—though I don't know why. I always thought Potter was asking for it." Lance paused and gave her a sideways glance. "At least I have one thing he doesn't have."

He appeared to be waiting for a response.

"What do you have that he doesn't have?" Lily asked, inwardly rolling her eyes, though his next answer made her stop cold.

"You."

"What?" Lily turned to him in shock, hoping she'd imagined it.

"I've got you and Potter doesn't," he explained calmly. Grinning, Lance hooked his arm around her waist. "The one girl who's never said yes to him."

What a stupid reason to want someone, Lily thought. He wanted her just because James did? Lily was trying to decide is she ought to act offended when suddenly Lance was leaning in, his eyes closed, his lips aimed for hers. Lily reacted without thinking.

"Lance!" she cried, dodging his face. "Stop it!" She pulled free and sprang back a few steps from him, heart pounding.

Merlin! This was totally unexpected. And totally unwelcome. What was he thinking? Had he thought that _that_ was a moment? It was the most unromantic time to ever initiate a kiss—telling her his motive for going out with her was due to his petty jealousy of James. Did he think she would feel flattered? What an idiot.

Lance looked incredulous at her response. "What?"

Lily took a breath, deciding to ignore what had just happened, and tried walking past him, but he blocked her path.

"Lily, wait a minute—"

"Let's just go back to school," she said quickly, wanting to avoid confrontation. Lily tried to get past him again, but he merely matched her steps, refusing to let her pass.

"Lily, I was going to kiss you," he said.

"Well, yes, I know that," she snapped. Did he think she was stupid? "Obviously I didn't want to be kissed."

Lance looked as though the idea of someone not wanting to be kissed by him was a revolutionary idea. "Why not?" He took a step forward. Lily took one back. "Lily, we're on a date."

"Yes, well, I'm not really having a good time." The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.

"What?"

Lily closed her eyes and sighed. Maybe it would just be better to admit the truth now. "I'm sorry, Lance," she apologized. "This is my fault. I never should have said yes to you." She actually felt amazingly better after that admission. Lily felt heartened by the fact that her date with Lance was now over and she was free to go back to the castle . . . and she hadn't seen James at the Three Broomsticks . . . maybe she'd be able to find him in the school.

"What are you talking about? We've been having a fine time!" Lance protested. Lily was brought abruptly back to the present when he brought his hands to her elbows and pulled her roughly against his chest. "And it would get better if you'd let me kiss you."

This was not the way Lily had expected him to react. And it certainly wasn't a pleasant surprise, either. Lance was manhandling her with mindless intent, oblivious to her objections. Why wouldn't he stop? Did he just want to brag around that he'd gotten a kiss from Lily Evans before James did? Why wouldn't he let her go?

"Stop," Lily protested, struggling to get away. But Lance had maneuvered her back against a tree and had his arm clasped around her waist tightly. Lily tried to push him away but he wouldn't budge. "Lance, stop it!"

"Just one kiss, Lily," he said, trying to still her struggling arms. He gave a smirk. "We're on a date, after all."

"What is wrong with you?!" she cried, turning her face away from his approaching lips. "Let go of me! I said no!"

"Wake up, Lily!" Lance said angrily, pushing her harder against the tree. "You can't say no to every boy who asks you. You've got to say yes sometime." Lily tried to protest but he simply talked on top of her. "We're perfectly suited, Lily," he explained. "If I was Head Boy now we'd have gotten together a long time ago. Stop fighting it."

Lily tried to grab her wand from her pocket but Lance had already pinned her arms to the tree.

She squeezed her eyes shut as he leaned in. Then she felt his lips touch hers.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Lance's lips had barely brushed hers before Lily felt him being thrust away from her. Suddenly she was free, leaning against the tree by herself. She heard something land with a thud onto the ground a few feet away.

Eyes snapping open, Lily started in disbelief to see James standing over Lance, his arms akimbo as her date groaned in pain on the ground. No hint of humor or jollity was on James' face; instead, he seemed almost overcome by a dark look of fury. Lily shivered.

"I believe she said no," James said through gritted teeth.

Lance sat up on the ground, glaring at James and rubbing his shoulder. Then, straightening his tie, he spoke. "I don't remember that," he said, a sneer twisting his lips. "I think you're talking about yourself, Potter. Lily said yes to me—I'm the one on the date with her, aren't I?"

Lily's eyes shot to James' face. Her stomach plummeted as she realized that he obviously thought she'd told Lance about the scene in the library from the night before. She wished she could somehow let him know that Lance didn't know about it, that it was just a usual insult addressing her years of rejecting him—not that that made it any more pleasant, really.

James tried to act as though the barb didn't sting. He shrugged. "Yeah, but just now Lily didn't seem to want you to kiss her," he said. "I believe her exact words were 'Let go of me! I said no!'" He crossed his arms against his chest and Lily suddenly realized he wasn't wearing a robe, or even a school jumper, just his button-down shirt. Wasn't he cold?

Lance slowly rose to his feet. "What's it to you? What happens on our date is no business of yours—and what were you doing, anyway?" he asked suddenly, eyes narrowing. "Following us around?" His eyes were locked with James'. Neither boy moved, faces set in anger. Lily thought James looked ready to spring. In fact, she thought he just might at Lance's next words. "Bet you wished you were in my spot."

James inhaled deeply through his nose, and though he clenched his fists, he didn't move toward Lance. "Lily can decide for herself who she wants to go out with," he said softly, though his words were impossible to miss.

"Well, looks like she already decided on me, doesn't it?" Lance asked, a smarmy smile on his lips. Lily wanted to smack him.

"Actually," a voice said, "it looks a bit different than that."

Lily started, looking over to see Remus standing not far from James, still on the pathway. She hadn't even been aware of his presence before then. The two boys had obviously just been walking back to school when they'd come upon Lily's predicament with Lance. She felt herself blush, realizing that Remus was now privy to much of her recent private life.

"I believe Lily said something about how she never should have said yes to you," Remus continued calmly, ignoring the venomous look Lance gave him.

"I did," Lily said, finally pushing herself away from the tree. Both James and Lance swung about to face her, though they were still eyeing each other.

Lily walked over to Lance, drew back her hand and slapped him. Hard.

James started in surprise. Lance grasped his face and took a step back.

"You're an arsehole," she said, her voice trembling. With fury or with nerves, she couldn't tell. "I said let go. I told you to stop it." Lance's eyes flickered from her face to James, who stood slightly behind her. Lily's eyes narrowed. "When a girl says no, she means it, Lance. I don't know what's wrong with you." Lance continued to glare behind her. Merlin, he wasn't even paying attention to her!

"I told you not to kiss me!" she cried.

"What, but Potter can?" Lance returned.

Lily's mouth dropped open and she tried desperately not to look at James. For some reason she started blushing furiously. "What?! Why would you ever assume—we never—what are you talking about?"

Lance rubbed his cheek. "You're obviously choosing him," he said bitterly. "I thought you were better than that, Lily."

"Just because I don't want to kiss you doesn't mean I'm choosing anybody," Lily cried, baffled by where he'd led the conversation.

"I don't care," Lance said, ignoring her. He turned to James, the look on his face somewhere between jealousy and monumental disgust. "You can have her, Potter," he spat. "You obviously have before. Why else would she—ugh!" He started swaggering away. "I don't want your castoffs."

The remaining three stood still for a few moments after he disappeared down the path. Lily's heart was racing, her stomach twisting, and her temples throbbing. Had she ever been more embarrassed? A boy had attacked her, another—one who was perpetually pursing her and being rejected—had saved her, they'd argued, she'd slapped someone, and a friend had seen the whole thing. This was positively the worst date she'd ever been on. Who knew what Lance would say when he got back to school? What would he tell his friends? Her handprint on his face was rather obvious . . .

Shakily raising her hands to smooth her hair, Lily realized she was still clutching her bottle of ink. She stared at it, slightly surprised she hadn't cracked it against Lance's skull while struggling against his embrace. The close proximity of the tree of shame, the ink bottle, and James standing a few feet away, made the situation all the more vibrant and absurd to her. Why had this happened? Angrily realizing she didn't have a pocket to put her stupid bottle of ink into, Lily suddenly let out a hysterical laugh.

James took a concerned stop towards her. "Lily, what—are you alright?"

She shook her head, not knowing if she was laughing or sobbing.

"_Castoffs!_" she gasped, trying to catch her breath. "Castoffs? I was never your castoffs!" Lily wiped a tear from her eye. "Lance is—why would he—ha ha ha!" It took a minute to control the laughter again. When she could, she felt rather sick. "I never even went out with you!" she finally cried, not knowing if this was a good or a bad thing. What if she had said yes yesterday in the library? What if this had been their date instead of hers and Lance's? It was very ironic, Lance's last taunt—as if James would ever cast her aside! He'd never had the chance; she'd never given him the chance.

"Don't I know it," James mumbled.

Lily finally looked at him. His hands were in his pockets and he was kicking the ground with his scuffed trainers. He looked pensive. Lily felt resentment boiling. How could he just stand there, after what had happened?

"Yes, you should," she said bitingly. James looked over at her swiftly. "Today should have put that into perspective if you didn't get it already. I was with Lance today, as you obviously know. Were you following us around the whole time?"

James gaped at her in disbelief. "I didn't follow you," he protested. At her snort, he took a step closer, his mouth hardening. "Albani is obviously delusional. I wasn't following you today, Lily."

"Then how did you interrupt us when you did?" she asked hotly.

"Interrupt you?" James let out an exasperated sound. "I wasn't aware that your struggling tête-à-tête against the tree was by choice." He scowled. "And I don't have to explain myself to you."

"Then you're just admitting that you _were_ following me," she said angrily. What was his problem? How far would he go? Actually, Lily felt she was being somewhat irrational, but it felt good to yell at someone, anyone, just the same. "I say no and you decide to stalk me on my date? Merlin, you're just like Lance! No means no! How did you even know I was with him?"

"I didn't until I saw him pushing you up against a tree," James snapped. "And for the last time, I wasn't following you. Remus and I have been in Hogsmeade all day and just now decided to walk back to school." His face seemed to soften for a moment. "It seems to me that we got here just in time."

The two stared at each other for a moment, but as the second ticked away and Lily's mouth didn't open with a reply, a mask seemed to slip back into place on James' face. He lowered his voice when he next spoke, apparently conscious of Remus' presence. "Contrary to what you may believe, my life doesn't revolve around you."

Lily blinked. Then she turned from him and started marching off down the path to school.

How insufferable! Like she actually thought his life revolved around her! Did he really think she was that egotistical? Who cared what he thought, she brooded angrily. He was just—just—being James! Ugh, the thought made her want to slap someone again. She wanted to turn around and stomp back up to him and yell at him some more. Or take his face in her hands and speak quietly but strongly and make him look at her. Or give him a good kick in the—

"So, what did you—er—do in Hogsmeade?" Remus' voice said from her shoulder.

Lily turned and saw that Remus had caught up to her. A quick glance behind saw James trudging up the path behind them, his hands in his pockets, a scowl on his face.

Looking back at Remus, who clearly had noticed her perusal of James, but was ignoring it politely (one of the many things she loved about Remus), Lily replied, "Oh, we, uh, went to the Three Broomsticks. And I got some ink from Scrivenshaft's."

"Was the one that broke in Transfiguration your last one?"

"Yeah." Lily ducked her head, remembering all the commotion that was made over a single bottle of ink shattering.

Remus seemed to pick up on her mood and changed the subject. "Yeah, we went to the Three Broomsticks too, and Zonko's but they didn't have anything new. And I got some chocolate at Honeyduke's," he motioned to the bag he was carrying, "and then we decided to leave." He paused.

Lily nodded, knowing that Remus, in his own way, was letting her know that James was telling the truth: that they hadn't been following her on her date. Lily already knew this. She'd known Lance had pulled that excuse out his arse the moment the accusation had passed his lips . . . She didn't know why she'd gotten so angry as to repeat it.

Sighing, Lily shivered against the chill.

"It's awfully cold," she said, drawing her cloak tighter around her arms.

"Wouldn't be surprised if it started snowing soon," Remus commented. "And it's not even November."

Lily glanced back at James, who was still following at a distance.

"Why doesn't James have a cloak?" she blurted. Lily looked quickly at her feet.

She didn't see Remus raise an eyebrow. "Because he doesn't want one," he said. "Believe it or not, James doesn't think it's cold. He thinks this is just 'the crispness of autumn.'" Remus shook his head.

Lily looked at him in disbelief. "What does he do in the summer, then?" she asked.

Remus smiled. "Oh, he doesn't mind the heat, either. James is very easy going when it comes to the weather. I went with him to Marseille last summer, and I don't think he complained once about how hot it was. When the rest of us swam to cool off, he swam just because he wanted to."

"Do you often spend holidays with James' family?" Lily asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

Remus looked surprised at her question. He shrugged. "Sometimes." He tried changing the subject. "Do you know what you're doing for Christmas, yet?"

Lily waved her hand dismissively. "Going home." She looked innocently at Remus. "Are you going to James' house?"

They had entered a small clearing and the trees were farther apart. Lily was surprised at how dark it was getting and started when she noticed the waning moon straight ahead; it was visible near the tree tops, glowing brightly.

Remus bit his lip. "N—no," he said softly, weakly. "My aunt's ill. I'll—I'll be going to visit her." Lily saw that his eyes lingered on the sky.

She let herself examine the half moon, its luminescent surface pearly and eye-catching. It was ironic that something so beautiful could cause so much pain. Remus didn't deserve it; he was one of the nicest boys she knew. "A full moon during Christmas . . ." she murmured to herself. It wasn't really fair.

She was suddenly aware that Remus had stopped short beside her, his body tense, his eyes no longer fixed on the moon, but on her face.

"What?" he asked in a hoarse, quiet voice. His body was frozen. "What did you say?"

Lily felt a blush spread over her face, bright and hot. Lily, you're an idiot, you're an idiot! she chided frantically. It was impossible to unlock her eyes from Remus' intense gaze.

"Oh. I . . . um . . . I, well, _know_," she said, slightly grimacing.

Remus stared at her for a second, inhaled sharply through his nose, then turned to James, who was standing slightly behind him. Lily wondered when he had caught up to them. She met his shocked gaze only to blush more brightly.

Then, three things seemed to happen simultaneously. Remus' face took on a ferocious look of betrayal, James took a step closer to them, thoughts racing across his face, and Lily was suddenly aware that Remus thought her knowing his secret was James' fault. Merlin, Lily! she thought to herself. Can't you keep your mouth shut? She was about to reassure Remus that her statement had nothing to do with James, but Remus beat her to the punch.

"You told her?!" Remus let out furiously. He took a step back from his friend, trembling with rage. If he wasn't normally so reserved and easy going, he probably would have leapt on James and started a brawl.

James turned his head so fast Lily thought he might hurt his neck. "What? No!" he vehemently denied. Once again he found himself rebuffing a completely unfounded accusation.

"I can't _believe_ that you would tell—"

"Remus, please! I wouldn't! I _didn't_!"

Remus shook his head. "And I thought things couldn't get any worse than last spring—"

"Remus," Lily said, trying to calm him down, "James didn't tell me. I guessed on my own. I've known ever since—"

But Remus was having none of it. "Have you spilled any other Marauder secrets, James?" Remus asked bitingly, his normally complaisant face screwed up in anger. "I thought that after what happened last June—" he broke off, the thought too painful to voice aloud, glaring at both of them. "I know you two did Animagi for your Transfiguration assignment," he said quietly. "Sirius was worried last night that you might tell—" he let out a strangled laugh devoid of humor, "and I told him not to worry! I said 'James will never let something out'! Merlin, James! Did you tell Lily anything else? Does she know which animal you are? Did you change right in front of her? I can't _believe_ you!"

Lily tried to make sense of what he said.

"I never told her anything!" James denied hotly.

"Then how did she know?" Remus shot back.

"I don't know! Why don't you ask her?"

"Like she wouldn't try to protect you—"

"Protect me? Remus, did you hear her before? She was yelling at me!"

"Probably to make me feel uncomfortable so that I'd leave and she wouldn't have to see my tainted face again—"

"For Merlin's sake!" Lily cried shrilly, cutting the two boys off. "James didn't tell me anything! I've known since we studied werewolves in fifth year!" Her loud declaration seemed to catch Remus off guard. Both boys stared at her. Taking a calming breath, she went on. "When we went over the characteristics and warning signs plus the lunar schedule—which was impossible for me to forget, what with Divination beating it into my brain—" Lily grimaced, then shrugged, somewhat apologetically, "it wasn't hard for me to put two and two together."

Remus couldn't seem to take his eyes off her, the fight suddenly draining out of him. After a moment he swallowed convulsively. "You've known . . . all this time, you've known. And you've never said anything?"

"It's not exactly something you bring up in a crowded Common Room," Lily said gently.

Remus shook his head. "I never thought . . . you don't think I'm—damaged? Or an animal?"

"Remus!" James said shortly.

"Of course not!" Lily exclaimed. "You're still you!" Lily moved forward. "You're still the same old Remus. It's not the end of the world. You just have a condition . . . a—a problem . . ."

There was a pause as Remus seemed to try to accept what she was saying. Then, turning to James, Remus grinned weakly. "A furry little problem."

As James grinned back, apology accepted, and the tenseness of the situation dissolved, the pieces suddenly clicked into place.

"Furry?" she repeated, her face freezing. Lily felt like she'd been looking through a frosted window before and now everything was clear. The air was crisp, the leaves crunching underfoot as she shifted her weight. It all made sense.

Lily turned to James, who had grasped Remus' arm and was still grinning. "Animagi?" she asked blankly, raising an eyebrow.

The smile slowly slipped off James' face.

Remus looked between the two of them. He cleared his throat "Um . . .right. Well, now that that's cleared up, I think I'll go back to the castle now," he said, starting to walk away. "I'll, um, see you two later, shall I?" And with that he was gone, smiling to himself, even though he knew James was in for it, because someone else knew his secret now, and didn't seem to care.

Said someone, Lily Evans, cared very much about the current topic, however, and was now glaring at James, her former fury rising to the surface once again as he continued to keep his mouth closed.

"Animagi, James?" she asked.

Suddenly, for seemingly no reason at all, she burst into tears. James stared in shock as Lily cried, her face screwing up, tears dripping down her cheeks, her nose turning pink.

"Lily," he said weakly. He tried to comfort her, but she only pushed him away and hit him in the arm with something hard that she held in her hand.

"Animagi!" she cried angrily. "You stupid idiot!" She hit him again with her ink bottle. "You must think I'm unbelievably thick. It was so obvious. Were you having a laugh at me the entire time?"

"No!" James cried, trying to grab her hand. "Of course not!"

"Oh, please! I bet you were! Pick a topic you know more about than anyone in the entire school—except perhaps McGonagall—and conveniently show up with all these books detailing how to do it, and write the best parts of the report yourself and go off and laugh with your mates about how stupid your partner is!"

"Lily, I don't think you're stupid," James said seriously. "And I certainly didn't laugh about it with my mates."

"Yes you did!" Lily cried irrationally. He must have. Why else would he have picked the topic? She couldn't believe she'd agreed to it. He was so stupid. _She _was so stupid. And she'd thought things couldn't have gotten any worse. Of course they could! She mustn't forget that she was dealing with James bloody Potter! Lily furiously wiped tears off her face with her fist.

"Why didn't you tell me you were an unregistered Animagi?" she asked hotly. She let out a laugh. "Unregistered! You're such an idiot! I can't believe this! Do you know what the Ministry will do to you if they find out?" Before he could answer she quickly went on. "Of course you do! You know exactly what they'll do! You just wrote a bloody report on it!" She hiccupped. "Was this all part of your plan?" James tried to interrupt but she went chugging on. "Charm her with a difficult magical theory, then prove you've done the practical application successfully, ask her to—"

"I never had a plan! And I could explain it all if you'd just shut up," James said.

Lily hiccupped again. James ran a shaking hand through his hair.

"I never had a plan," he repeated. "When we brainstormed for ideas you kept shooting down everything that came out of my mouth. Even Animagi. But I defended it, because I knew how hard it was. Because," he swallowed, "because I can do it. I am an Animagi."

Lily hadn't wanted to believe it. But now that the words were out of James' mouth, she felt something within her deflate.

"I—" James cleared his throat. "I didn't think . . . When we finally worked on it, I was scared you'd figure it out."

"How could I have possibly figured it out?" Lily asked. "You acted like you'd never heard the steps before in your life. Bravo on your part. I really had no idea."

"Lily—"

"No, really, hats off to you. You've duped us all."

"Lily, please—"

"Another thing to check off on your grand list of accomplishments," Lily said scathingly. "Quidditch Captain, Head Boy, Unregistered Animagi, Marauder—" Lily broke off, abruptly. "Do the rest of them know?" she asked.

James nodded.

Lily let out a breath as the murkiness of the situation disappeared and everything became clear, even things she hadn't known she'd known. This was unbelievable.

"I thought Sirius was taken off guard when he heard we were doing Animagi," she said. "I just didn't know why."

James didn't say anything.

"Was this another Marauder thing?" she asked. "Were you all board one day and decided to attempt incredibly complex magic just because you had nothing better to do?"

"It wasn't like that," James said sharply. At her look of disbelief, he went on. "It was for Remus. We—we did it so that when he transformed, we could be with him."

Lily gasped. How could there be more? "Are you serious? Do you know how dangerous that is? If one of you—"

"Don't you think we haven't already thought of that?" he interrupted hotly. "Do you think we haven't thought of the danger? Do you think _Remus_ hasn't?" He shook his head. "It took us years to get the magic right. We didn't do it for kicks. We did it—partly—so that Remus would stop questioning if we really liked him. We—we're friends," he ended, a little sadly.

Lily tried to absorb it all, but was having difficulty. It was hard to believe they'd successfully become Animagi. It was hard to believe they'd done it by themselves. That nothing had gone horribly wrong. That even Peter could do it. That their friendship was so strong, so real that three of them would risk their lives every month just to help another. That no one had noticed. That it had been going on who knew how long.

"I . . . I just can't believe it," Lily said after a moment. "Three unregistered Animagi . . . and no one has ever found out." She suddenly remembered how he'd been late to their first partner meeting for the Transfiguration assignment, and how he'd mentioned something about a full moon when she'd jumped down his throat. Lily sighed, shaking her head. "James . . ."

Their gazes locked, James staring at her with that same hot, fierce look in his eyes that he'd had when he'd asked her to go with him to Hogsmeade. He was firm in what he'd done, no regrets whatsoever. He wasn't ashamed, he was proud and noble and wanted her to know he took responsibility seriously and thought about consequences and was now trusting her and sharing secrets with her that till that very moment had only ever been shared with three other boys. Lily felt her breath catch and was unable to look away. His eyes were hazel, a mix of green and brown and gold; beautiful and fierce and mesmerizing. Her stomach was suddenly watery with butterflies. Strange, that argument the night before seemed so long ago . . .

"I'm a stag," he said hoarsely after a moment, wrenching his gaze from hers and staring off into the trees.

Lily shivered at his admission, though she couldn't help the part of her that longed to see him in his Animagus form.

The last piece finally clicked into place.

Lily let out a breath. "Prongs?" she whispered incredulously.

He gave a jerky nod. "I'm sorry," he said hoarsely.

"Why didn't you tell me, then?" she asked. "Before?"

James blew out a shaky breath. "I thought about it. A lot. But it's not exactly something you tell just anyone." He caught her gaze again. "I thought I might tell you someday, if you ever gave me the chance."

"Are we back to that?" Lily asked softly. "Hogsmeade? James, you make me—"

"I make you what?" he interrupted hotly, something within him seeming to have snapped. A torrent of emotion crossed his face. "Don't tell me I make you sick. I've heard it enough, thank you. You make me sick sometimes, too, Lily Evans, but I don't go yelling it to your face."

Lily bit her lip but let her protest go unvoiced. She probably deserved that. Merlin knew she'd yelled enough at him the past two days.

The two continued on in silence on the path towards Hogsmeade, twilight slowly seeping out of the sky, the sun having set some time before. As they walked, Lily could sense the tension seeping out of James with every step. He'd never been able to stay cross with her, though she'd managed to hold grudges for years. And discovering his secret of being an unregistered Animagi was something she once would have held against him. But now . . . Lily glanced at James as they trudged along. Now, after hearing why he and his friends had undertaken the project, and knowing firsthand how deep the Marauders' friendship ran, Lily was finding it impossible to continue fuming.

She also was wondering with a raging curiosity what James looked like in his Animagus form. Lily peered at James again from the corner of her eye, taking in his untidy hair, bespeckled face, and hands in his trouser pockets. Two weeks ago she wouldn't have been able to picture him as a stag, but now, after working so closely with him, Lily honestly didn't find it that surprising. He was handsome, he was imperial at times, he was well liked, and, she'd even told him so, he was noble.

Lily stumbled as a thought crossed her mind. Hoping desperately that James hadn't noticed or wouldn't say anything, Lily felt her heart start to pound. James' Animagus form was a stag. Was it a coincidence that her patronus was a doe? She could barely breathe at the thought. Lily had always been proud of her patronus, but matching so neatly with James . . . a stag and a doe . . . Did that mean anything?

Trying to block the implications from flooding her mind, Lily shivered as the castle came into view.

"Cold?" James' voice sounded from near her shoulder. Lily lifted her face to him.

"A little," she admitted, trying to draw her coat more tightly around her.

"Here," he said softly, "let me." Stepping closer, James wrapped his arms around her and started rubbing his hands up and down her arms, creating friction and heat. After a moment his hands slowed, softly brushing until they stopped, his hands resting on her arms, his eyes locked on her face.

Lily tried not to tremble from his closeness. She was standing almost chest to chest with James, their faces inches apart, alone on the grounds when everyone else was most likely at supper.

"I didn't follow you, you know," James whispered. "Today. I was in Hogsmeade with Remus. It was entirely a coincidence that we found you on the path." His tone implied, however, that he was very glad they had.

Lily averted her eyes, staring instead at his throat, which was revealed by the undone top button of his shirt. Lily again briefly wondered how he could not need a cloak.

"I know," she said. "I know you didn't follow me. I was just being stupid."

"You could never be stupid," James replied softly.

"About some things I can be," Lily said.

Shifting slightly, Lily grasped James' hand in hers. Her heart was pounding in her ears.

"James?" she said breathlessly.

"Yeah?"

"I think—you were right."

James looked as though she'd just wacked a Bludger into his stomach.

Lily bit her lip. "If I'd gone to Hogsmeade with you, I—I reckon I would have had fun."

There. The words were finally out. The words that had been beating around in her skull ever since he'd uttered them. Lily more than thought them to be true, she knew they were—she was having a better time now—apologizing and walking in silence and learning James' secrets—than she'd had on her stupid date with Lance.

Lily looked up at him to gauge his reaction only to see that same fiery, fierce look in James' eyes again. The intenseness of that look caused her to blush furiously, though neither of them broke the eye contact. Lily felt her stomach flutter.

"When you asked me last night," she whispered, "I—I thought it was a joke—a trick—"

"It wasn't," James said hoarsely, sadly. She felt him shiver. "It isn't."

"I know," she said, giving his hand a squeeze. Lily smiled weakly. "I've been an idiot."

James didn't deny her words, but his eyes were soft and his hand was warm around hers.

"I just—" Lily tried to find the words to explain. "You were always so . . . and I never knew if you were serious or not, or if you even liked me. And I know you're different—I know you've changed—"

"I know," James said. He knew she was apologizing for more than last night or even about her accusations from an hour ago. She was apologizing for her behavior the entire time he'd known her. He shrugged in acceptance. "And I think we've established that I've been an idiot as well."

Lily couldn't stop her smile and when James grinned back, she let herself go, stepping into his arms and pulling him close. Wrapping his arms about her, James slowly relaxed, the hug healing him in more ways than one.

When they finally pulled apart, the two started walking again to the castle, both very much aware of their clasped hands. James was marveling over her apology and trying to soak in the moment. Lily was wondering why it had taken her so long to realize what a good person he was. Thoughts racing in their respective heads, both denied eye contact, though their hands bespoke their deeper connection. When they reached the courtyard, empty, since dinner had already started, James paused.

He turned to her. "Sit by me?" he asked, hope blatantly showing on his face. He was passed trying to pretend he didn't care. He was passed jokes and feigned calm. She knew how he felt. And if there was a chance . . .

Lily smiled, nodding. And she knew she'd always remember the brilliance of the smile he'd returned.

As they continued to the door again, Lily realized she was still holding her ink bottle.

"Do you have a pocket you could keep this in for me?" she asked, handing the bottle to him.

"Sure," he said, taking the ink from her. Lily's fingers tingled where they touched his.

James paused, a puzzled frown marring his forehead. "Why'd you get invisible ink?" he asked curiously.

Lily froze. She grabbed the ink from him. Sure enough, the label read "Invisible Ink" in neat, precise lettering.

"Merlin's pants!" she cried. "Invisible ink!" She choked on any remaining words.

James tried to stifle his laughter. He took the bottle again. "Here, I can hold it. And you can have one of my bottles. I have lots."

Lily looked at him for a moment. Then, without thinking, she stepped up to him, wrapped her arms about his neck, and pressed her lips to his.

James froze for about a second in surprised astonishment. A moment later, his hand gently touched her cheek as she kissed him. His lips were warm and soft and kissing him felt so right. Lily pressed herself closer to his body as their lips continued brushing softly against each other. She opened her mouth to sigh and James immediately took advantage of it, his tongue gently sweeping into her mouth, hot and wet and good.

Then, he suddenly clasped her to him, his arms powerful and strong, one hand rubbing up and down her back, leaving trails of fire, the other buried in her hair, angling her head to deepen the kiss. When Lily cautiously moved her tongue against his, he let out a groan, one she could feel rumbling in his chest as he pressed her closer, his kiss heating her. All of Lily's senses were focused on this kiss. She wasn't aware of anything but James and how right it felt to be in his arms.

A few minutes later, breathless, they both broke the kiss, panting slightly. Lily smiled at him, her face happy and dreamy and wonderful. The intense look was back in James' eyes. She blushed in pleasure.

"Do you want to go in for supper?" she asked.

James leaned in and brushed his lips against hers with his answer.


End file.
